


A Place We Can Love

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Season/Series 15, Bottom Dean Winchester, Canon Universe, Dean/Cas Big Bang 2019 (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Post-Hunting, Post-Season/Series 14, Retired Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), Temporary Cas/Others, Temporary Dean/Others, Top Castiel (Supernatural), dumbasses in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2019-11-08
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21342202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: Jack uses the last of his power to close Heaven and Hell, leaving Castiel a choice, stay human or remain in heaven forever. Castiel chooses to fall, become human and stay on Earth with Sam and Dean. Together, they decide to retire from hunting, Sam heading back to Stanford, and Dean and Cas moving to the idyllic town of Waldport, Oregon. There they start their new lives together, Dean building a house for them, Cas curating his place in humanity, and the two of them slowly finding their way to express the love for each other they've been holding back for so many years.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Female Character(s), Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 374
Collections: DCBB 2019, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I need give a huge thanks to my artist [kweenratmother](https://kweenratmother.tumblr.com/) who created gorgeous [art](https://kweenratmother.tumblr.com/post/188917237139/hey-yall-guess-what-i-did-the-dcbb-heres-my-art) for this fic. It's been wonderful working with you AND getting the chance to meet you in person!
> 
> Second, huge thanks to [Bexy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inplayruns/works) for beta'ing and listening to me whine to her about the plot for months on end. Also thanks to [Sam](https://twitter.com/_halleluujah), [Ash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities), and [Linds](https://twitter.com/lindieface) for being my cheerleaders. Y'all are the best. 
> 
> It's been four years since I took part in DCBB and I am ecstatic to be participating again. This fic means so much to me. In honor of the final season I wanted to give Dean and Cas the happy, post-hunting ending I think they deserve. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

**June 2020**

“Dean, where are you taking me?”

It’s late afternoon and Cas is messing with his seat belt in the passenger seat next to Dean, squinting in confusion at Dean’s excited grin. A ray of golden sun crosses his cheek and hits a stray strand of hair falling across his forehead. He has let his hair grow longer now that he’s human. He’s allowed his body to change with his new form, adopting a reckless sort of freedom in the finality of his physical state and Dean _ loves _ it. 

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you,” Dean answers.

Cas sighs the heavy sigh of someone who’s developed saintly patience when it comes to Dean. Dean watches him fidget in the seat and look out at the highway across from the motel parking lot. “Do I have to keep my eyes closed the whole way?”

“Nah, I’ll tell you when we get close, then you can close ‘em. It’s a bit of a drive, wouldn’t want you to get car-sick.”

Car sickness was something that came about one day when traveling from Lebanon to their new home in Waldport, Oregon, a few weeks after Cas fell and became human again. Dean had pulled over and made Cas and Sam switch seats the moment he noticed Cas’ pale face. After sitting in the back seat so often as a kid, Sam getting car sick would be ridiculous, but everything is so damn new for Cas. Afterwards, Dean slowed his speed down to an appropriate fifty miles per hour and took it easy the rest of the way. It wasn’t like they were in a rush; they just retired, they could take their time. 

“I appreciate that,” Cas replies. He smiles at Dean, a small one that’s filled with a mix of curiosity and softness. 

Dean is practically bursting at the seams with how much he wants to tell Cas about where they’re going, but he doesn’t want to ruin the surprise. And he _ really _wants to see how Cas reacts the moment he realizes. They’ve worked hard in the six months they’ve been in Waldport, establishing themselves amongst the rest of the civilians. Sam helps out, too, from his new home at Stanford and his occasional donation stolen from the Republican Party. It’s taken a bit to adjust to the non-hunting lifestyle, and they’ll still be adjusting even after they finally settle down, but this will be a start. 

Dean brings the Impala to life and she rumbles beneath him, her sound the most comforting lullaby he’s known. She is more of a home than any motel, any place he’s lived over the course of his life, even though the Bunker came close. He hopes this new place will become the home he never got to have, and for Cas a place to finally feel like he belongs. It took a few weeks after Mary died for he and Cas to get back to what they were before. Once Jack came back and fixed what he could with Heaven and Hell, Dean realized that while losing Mary left him with an irreparable ache, he couldn’t lose Cas too, not over something that wasn’t actually Cas’ fault. So Dean made amends and he and Cas have been great ever since.

Dean peels out of the parking lots and heads east, away from the ocean and their quaint little town. The road curves through the trees, tall evergreens standing like a thousand waiting soldiers along the roadside. He flicks on Zeppelin, but keeps it quiet just so he can listen to Cas hum with the melody. He steals glances at Cas while he drives, watching him while Cas watches the trees flit by in a green flash and the Alsea River running parallel to the roadway. Golden hour glow streams through the cracks in the trees, kaleidoscoping the pavement as he speeds over it. The clear river water shines fire-like in the light, and it bounces back, outlining Cas’ profile and making him look like he’s some sort of masterpiece carved out of stone.

Cas is, in his own way, a masterpiece.

Dean remembers the road and focuses on the yellow dots stretching out in front of him.

“Are you taking me to the mountains?” Cas asks, breaking the comfortable silence. He looks over at Dean, who merely smirks back.

“We’re almost there, you’ll see.” 

Cas rolls his eyes and lets out a huff that sounds more irritated than he actually is. 

The highway gets curvier as Dean drives further away from civilization. He rounds a corner and passes the old strawberry farm, fields ripe and bright red with thousands of berries this time of year. A streamline of locals stand visible in the rows, picking the last few before the sun goes down. 

Only a mile or so left.

Dean sees the sign before Cas does, having driven by once already today. The sight of SOLD written across the sign makes his heart do an excited little flip in his chest. He turns down the gravel road in front and sees Cas do a double-take at the sign out of the corner of his eye. 

“Dean... what?”

Dean grins, bright as the sun around them, and slows the car way down. He doesn’t want to damage the undercarriage. The driveway is long, a slight downward slope leading them closer towards the river. Trees line the roadway, clustered right together before opening up a quarter of a mile off the main highway to an open patch of land overlooking the river. A tiny ramshackle red barn, abandoned for many years now but still mostly intact, sits near the top of a hill that gently dips down towards the water. Dean pulls to a stop right at the edge of the expansive six acre plot and looks over at Cas.

“What is this?” Cas asks, voice barely above a whisper. Dean looks at him and waits while Cas’ eyes flit around between Dean, the barn, the stretch of green land sitting between them, the forest, and the river.

“Well,” Dean says, drawing it out. “I’m hoping it can be our new home.” 

Cas goes silent and Dean can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Turning off the car, Dean turns in his seat so he can face Cas a little more, resting his arm along the back of the seat.

Cas opens his mouth to say something and then closes it. He giggles a little, shaking his head, and it’s entirely too adorable for Dean to handle. He wonders, as the silence between them stretches, if maybe he made a mistake. He wants Cas to stay with him, but it isn’t something they’ve really spoken about. He’s just stuck around since everything went down a year ago, but that doesn’t mean he intends to stay _ forever _. He is human again and free, he can do whatever he wants.

“So what do you think?” Dean asks, not able to stop himself from asking because he’s _ dying _to know. 

“Dean,” Cas starts, and by the twitch at the corner of his mouth, he’s holding back a laugh, “I know we met in a barn but I don’t particularly want to live in one.”

Dean snorts. “I’m gonna build us a house, Cas. We can use the barn for, I don’t know chickens or something.” 

“Chickens... fresh eggs would be nice,” Cas muses. “What else were you thinking?”

He’s hyper-attentive now, eyes sparkling bright in curiosity. 

“Let’s get out and I’ll show you. You’re gonna have to visualize it though, I haven’t made a house plan yet.”

“I have a good imagination,” Cas answers, and grins. 

The air is comfortingly cool outside the car, the sun slowly starting to trickle down past the treeline. Cas follows Dean as they walk together closer towards the plot, their shoes crunching on the gravel beneath their feet. 

Dean stops around the middle of the grassy area, forty feet or so before it starts to curve down towards the lake. 

“So I’m thinking a big porch, one of those wrap-around ones, able to fit a few chairs at least. There’ll be a door out back too with some steps that lead down to the river for easier access. Two stories, downstairs will have a living room, kitchen, and a bathroom, dining room, the usual. Three bedrooms, all upstairs -- one for me, one for Sam whenever he comes back to visit or if we have guests, and one for you.” He pauses, and clears his throat pointedly. “That is if you’re planning on staying.” 

Dean stares down at his shoes, scruffs the tip of his boot with the gravel and feels his heart drop when Cas doesn’t say anything right away. 

“Dean.”

Dean looks up at the sound of his name, and the gravitas of how Cas says it. He meets Cas’ eyes, terrified of what he might find there. Cas is looking at him with that all-consuming stare of his that has Dean feeling like he’s about to vibrate out of his body. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Okay,” Dean answers with a curt nod, trying to mask the emotions that Cas’ words awoke. There’s a giddy sense of hope rising in him that continues climbing with every new development of their future post-hunting life. 

Cas _ wants _ to stay, he’s going to stay. 

“However, I do have one stipulation.”

“Oh?” Dean asks, quirking an eyebrow.

Cas nods, and turns back to face the empty plot, face resolute. “I want bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, bees. I was thinking, after we went to the farmer’s market the other Saturday, that I could sell honey there. I can’t do much anymore, at least not compared to what I used to, but I’ve always been fond of bees and this is something I’d like to do.”

It’s so fucking cute, and so _ Cas _, Dean’s heart aches tight within his chest. Dean loves him so goddamn much it’s ridiculous. 

“Deal. This time let’s keep the clothes on and don’t get my car covered in honey.”

Cas chuckles at Dean’s mention of that _ incident _from so many years ago. “No promises.”

Dean laughs along with him and when Dean looks over to meet his gaze, Cas is looking at him with a deeply fond expression. Their gazes linger, staring at each other, and Dean gets caught in the endlessly intoxicating loop of Cas’ eyes. 

Cas breaks first, and jerks his head towards the river. Dean follows, hands in his pockets, feet shuffling through the bright green grass. At times like these, where Cas is so close to him, their shoulders bumping as they walk, that Dean wants to reach over and take his hand and intertwine their fingers together. It would be rather romantic honestly, standing on the edge of the river at sunset, holding hands. He doesn’t though, but instead squats down at the water’s edge to pick up a small flat pebble from underneath the water. He twirls it around between his fingers examining it before tossing it into the water with a flick of his wrist where it skips one, two, three, four times before plopping back down again. 

Cas mimics him, and his rock only gets two skips before falling down to the riverbed. Dean will have to teach him - another thing to add to the long list of the things Dean wants to do that for. 

But they have time. They have nothing _ but _ time.

This is the first sunset of many to come over the rest of their lives. Dean never thought he would live to see forty, let alone have an actual life past hunting. He truly can’t wait to see what this new life looks like with Cas at his side.


	2. Chapter 2

**June 2021**

The motel room keys jingle in Cas’ back pocket as he tries to finagle his way to grabbing them without dropping any of the grocery bags. He is late coming back to the motel from the farmer’s market. He’d told Dean he’d be back around an hour ago, but he’d gotten distracted. Ms. Garson stopped him on his way out to ask how the house was coming along, how Dean was doing, and if she could send her husband over as any help. Cas thanked her, said that Dean was great and things were almost complete on the house. Frank Banter, the letter carrier, stopped him by the mushroom stand with similar questions. It was never a nuisance, their neighbors’ small talk. Cas liked being recognized as a local, and enjoyed the comfortable friendliness with how Waldport had welcomed them with open arms into their community.

Now, he’s back at their temporary home, Room 115 of The Waldport Inn, his arms bundled with fresh zucchini and eggplant just like Dean asked him to pick up. He’d said he wanted to make something special for dinner tonight, some sort of chicken dish with vegetables. Cas hasn’t tried eggplant and Dean had decided over the past few months to make it his personal life goal to cook Cas all of the different foods he has yet to try. 

So far they’re up to fifteen different things, including brussel sprouts, which Cas wasn’t too fond of. They tasted like sour dirt flavored with a variety of seasonings. Dean says he’ll try to make them again, even though he wasn’t too fond of the dish either, and try to make them more appealing this time. Cas isn’t too sure that will make a difference. He’s always open to exploring the wonders of human taste buds, but is reluctant if first impressions aren’t positive. Dean could always change Cas’ mind; he has a knack of doing so in the most surprising ways. 

Cas deposits the array of vegetables onto the counter, and glances around at their little home. Nothing has changed since he left earlier today; clearly Dean hasn’t been back yet. He feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket and digs it out, finding a text from Dean flashing up at him on the screen.

**Dean: You back from the market?**

Cas squints at his phone and taps at it until he dials Dean. 

“Hey Cas,” Dean says, picking up after the second ring. 

“Hello, Dean. Are you still out at the house?”

“Yep,” Dean says, mouth popping loudly over the speaker on the p. “One sec, lemme just...” There’s a stretch of silence, the sound of a hammer clattering onto a wooden surface and a rustling. “Okay, all yours.”

“How’s it coming?” Cas asks.

“Great! I was wondering if you’d meet me out here, actually. Probably should take a dinner break, ya know?”

There’s a subdued giddiness in Dean’s tone. He’s talking faster than normal, and failing to reign in whatever he’s excited about from Cas. 

“Do you want me to pick up something at Vickie’s?” Cas asks. 

Their first week in town Dean declared the burgers at Vickie’s Big Wheel Drive-In superior to anywhere else in the city. It’s been his dinner of choice on nights he stays out late at the house working. 

“Nah, just bring the stuff you bought at the market.”

“Is the kitchen functional?” 

“Haven’t tested it yet, but... should be. Guess we’ll find out, huh?”

“Guess so. You sound... excited,” Cas states, testing the waters to see if Dean will tell him. 

“I’m happy,” Dean says. He sounds so sincere and genuine that Cas wants to capture the warmth that blooms inside him at Dean’s words in a bottle and keep it for the bad days. Dean, though, doesn’t linger on the thought, but continues on like normal. “Hey, bring out two of our pans, two plates, and silverware will ya? I have beer but no food stuff.”

“I can do that. Where are we going to eat? We don’t have any furniture.”

Cas swears he hears a glint of mischief in Dean’s voice when he replies, “We’ll improvise.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.” He’s beyond curious about what new surprises Dean has for him, but knows better than to ask questions. 

“See ya soon.”

Cas stupidly hopeless human heart flips in his chest. 

“See you soon, Dean.”

* * *

The drive out to the house is enjoyable, as always. Tall evergreens, their branches arching up and reaching for the sun, surround the car as Cas curves along the river out of town. A few houses are dotted in place along the edge of the road, one or two every mile or so, spacing out the longer he drives, tucked in amongst the trees. It’s breathtakingly beautiful in a way Cas hasn’t quite found the words for. He is continuously amazed at this lovely little section of earth, its beauty, and how he’s never fully managed to enjoy it before now. His second chance at humanity has given Cas enlightenment. He can’t wait for the day they finally move in and he gets to take this drive every afternoon. 

Next to him, the pans and plates clatter together in the reusable bag he grabbed. Cas stuffed everything in all at once in his haste. He hits a particularly rough patch of road near the strawberry farm and has to reach over, holding the precious cargo back from careening off the seat. His truck’s shocks aren’t what they used to be, and he should probably ask Dean to check them out. Dean has been so busy over the past year with the slow process of putting together the house, essentially by himself, that Cas hesitated to ask him to do anything extra. 

Cas had offered to help, and many times Dean wanted him to help out with little things: holding a tricky board up here and there, hammering something, or asking Cas’ opinion on a particular aspect of the design. Most of it, however, he did alone. Early on, he’d explained it to Cas that it was something he wanted to do  _ for them _ . He wanted to prove to himself that he could do something other than hunting, something  _ normal. _ Cas wasn’t quite sure why that had to be a task as outlandish as building a house on his own, but he supported Dean regardless.

Cas understood, going through something similar himself, the need to fit seamlessly into their new community. He knew he was different from other humans; that much was unavoidable. The first thing he’d done once they got settled into Waldport was get a job. Nothing glamorous, a sales associate position at the local Gas N’ Sip. Sam had helped him create a resume and gave him tips on how to talk his way into the job despite having experience in said job. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something that made him feel normal and more human than his lifetimes of living had prepared him for. What Cas really wanted was to work with nature, to work with bees, and to sell what his colony produced at the local market. It was a dream, something he’d never had before, and soon to be realized if Dean’s recent questions about the shape and dimension of Cas’ ideal hives were any indication. 

He’s excited about all of the possibilities the new house brings, and cannot wait to see the progress Dean has made today. 

Cas rounds the sharp curve near the strawberry farm, stealing a glance at the neat rows of berries stretching out from the road to the edge of the river. Joe Penderson waves at him from atop his tractor. Cas smiles and waves back. Almost there. 

Gravel crunches beneath the wheels as he turns down their driveway, curving down towards the water. The line of the trees opens up, revealing the mostly finished house. Cas pulls in and parks next to the Impala. He gathers up the supplies in his arms and heads towards the front porch. He doesn’t see Dean right away, but hears the echo of a cheerful whistle from inside the house. 

Cas pauses at the bottom of the white steps and looks up. The dark blue paint and white shutters stand out in the sun’s radiant glow. They’d painted the house together over the course of last week. Amateurs of the art, it took longer than they anticipated, and every day Cas ended up coming back to the hotel with his hands and face covered in paint. Partially his own fault, partially due to Dean’s teasing, which involved dotting the tip of Cas’ nose with paint. 

“Cas, that you?” Dean’s voice calls from what sounds like near the back porch. 

“It’s me,” Cas calls back. He hears the click of Dean’s work boots on the porch and then Dean himself comes into view. 

He’s covered in a mix of dirt and leftover paint, all over his slightly tanned arms and cheeks. He’s wearing his work jeans, the torn, faded blue ones that cling comfortably to the curve of his ass. The sleeves of his blue paint-spotted white t-shirt are rolled up into a makeshift tank top, unintentionally showing off his biceps. Cas finds himself staring, his gaze caught in the golden rays of sun hitting Dean’s cheeks and excited grin on his lips. Dean jogs down the four steps until he’s one up above Cas and Cas has to crane his neck up a little to look at him.

“Guess what?” Dean asks. 

Dean’s joy is so infectious Cas finds himself smiling back. “What?”

Dean stuffs his hands into his pockets and rocks back and forth onto his heels like a giddy little kid. “The house is done.”

“All of it?!”

Dean nods. “All of it.”

“Dean, that’s amazing. You did it.”

“No,” Dean says, resolute.  _ “We _ did it.”

Dean hops down a step and wraps an arm around Cas’ shoulder, dragging him into a hug. Cas clings to the thin fabric of Dean’s t-shirt, and breathes him in. “It looks beautiful.”

Dean claps him on the back and steps back, shrugging in a display of faux modesty. “It’s alright.”

Cas chuckles and shakes his head at him. Cute and ridiculous. 

Dean gets a hold of Cas’ forearm, and Cas lets himself be led up the steps to the front door. Dean releases him and Cas watches Dean dip a hand into his pocket and pull out two shiny silver keys. Dean reaches out and catches Cas’ fingers in his, turning over his hand and placing the key into the center of his palm. Cas watches, breathless, while Dean moves to the door, slides the key into the lock and pushes the door open. 

Dean’s smile softens and he holds out a hand towards the inside of the house. 

“Welcome home, Cas.”

Despite his exterior hard resolve, Cas’ human emotions get the better of him. He fights back the tears that well up, and steps inside. 

He’s seen the inside before, helped Dean with some of it over the past year, but it’s been a few days and there are some changes. Hardwood now covers the floor, a dark mahogany that stretches into every room. Directly to the left of the entry hall is the living room, and behind it a wooden staircase ascends up to the second floor. To the right, down the hallway next to the living room, is the kitchen. Cas heads in there first, pausing in the doorway to take it all in. Sun rays shine in through the window over the sink, guiding Cas’ eyes around the room. The stove is set up, as is the fridge, which he didn’t realize Dean had already bought. There is a large amount of counter space, including an island in the middle of the floor covered in intricate granite marble. There’s a large empty space for their future dining table right next to the back door that leads out to grassy slope, the back of the porch, and the river. 

Cas smiles as he drags his eyes back over to the window and notices the sprig of lavender inside an El Sol bottle resting on the ledge above the sink. It’s the little details that matter, and even this simple gesture of personalization makes a warm heat of comfort bloom in his chest. 

“Dean, it looks wonderful, exactly how you wanted it.”

“Yep. I really hope the stove works. The fridge does, if you wanna put the groceries in there.”

Cas does, and sets the utensils and pans on the island for later.

He turns back around and finds Dean smiling at him with a subdued secretive smile. 

“What?”

“So I have a surprise.”

Cas arches an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Follow me.”

Dean leads him towards the back door and turns down a small hallway that wraps around behind the stairway to a closed, oak door. He pushes it open and is Cas’ view is met with soft natural light streaming in through two large perpendicular windows. Beneath each window is a plush seat, with two pillows on either end. Each seat is back ended by a tall, empty bookshelf. There’s a large space in the middle of the carpeted floor where Cas could easily see a small couch or loveseat going there, facing out towards the view.

It’s a small room, but cheery, and it looks out towards the forest behind the house, the edge of the red barn peeking out the side of one of the windows. It has the ambience of a secluded room from a fairy tale, quiet now - but Cas can imagine the sound of birds chirping and trees rustling in the wind when the windows are cracked. 

“It’s so peaceful,” Cas says, not sure how else to react. It’s beautiful; he can’t wait to spend mornings and afternoons here, poring over books for hours. He walks forward and drags his fingers along the smooth edge of one of the bookshelves.

“It’s for you,” Dean says. Cas turns to look at him and finds Dean’s cheeks tinged pink. He ducks his head and continues, “And for Sam whenever he comes to visit, and whenever I wanna take the time to just read. I know you’d get a kick out of this though, figured you might want your own space sometimes, so I made you a little nook.”

“A library nook?”

“Yep. I’ve decided to turn part of the old barn into a garage so when I need time to just think and get my hands dirty I have a space to do that.”

“You really thought of everything,” Cas says. 

Dean shrugs, modestly. “I tried so hard to make this perfect. We deserve something good after all the shit we’ve been through, you know?”

“We do. Thank you,” Cas says. It’s not how he wants to thank him, it’s not enough to just say thank you, but he can only hope that someday he can show Dean how thankful he truly is. 

“Yeah, no problem, Cas,” Dean says, blush intensifying to the tips of his ears. He looks adorable and Cas doesn’t know how he finds the restraint inside himself to not kiss him like he wants. “Wanna go upstairs?”

“Lead the way.”

The stairs are nothing to write home about, but the fact that Dean crafted them with his own hands makes them special. Dean’s made everything about their home so special. It was built with love and that overwhelming feeling permeates the entire house. 

Once up the stairs the hallway splits into a T. There is a door directly in front of the stairs, which Dean opens and reveals. 

“This will be Sam’s when he comes home to visit, or the guest room if Jody or Donna or any of the girls come by.”

Cas peeks into the room, it’s simple but has a nice large window that looks out towards the forest. 

Dean heads left and Cas follows. They pass a bathroom, and then reach another door, which Cas can only assume is one of their rooms. 

Dean opens and steps inside. This one too faces the forest, but faces directly east. 

“This one’s mine. I get up earlier than you, don’t mind the sun helping me get up, so I figured I’d take the sunrise side.”

Cas nods. Dean does have a tendency to get up at least an hour before Cas does, and has always been fond of sunrises. He says that there’s no better way to wake up than to something beautiful. The room doesn’t look much like Dean, as it’s currently bare, but he’s told Cas how he wants to decorate in explicit detail. 

“I like it,” Cas says, smiling at him and Dean practically preens. It’s cute. He’s never really been openly proud of much, so it’s nice to see. 

“Alright, your turn.”

Cas’ room is at the other end of the hallway, opposite Dean’s and next to Sam’s. Dean lets Cas open the door himself. He’s met with a similar layout to Dean’s room, but his window faces west, looking over the curve of the river as it heads towards the ocean. It’s bright in the afternoon, heat pouring in with the sunlight that casts dozens of shadows across the floor. It’s comfy, and homey even empty. Much better than his room at the bunker, because this is a room he can truly make his own.

Cas steps inside and walks to the center of the room, peering out the window at the view. He lingers there until he turns around to face Dean. Dean is watching him, expression guarded, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

“Is it okay?”

“Perfect.”

Dean blushes at Cas’ praise, a tiny smile appearing on his face. 

“I hoped so.”

Cas moves on autopilot, and closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Dean is startled at first, tense, and then relaxes almost instantly, palm flattening wide against Cas’ back. 

“Thank you. For all of this.”

Dean nods against the side of Cas’ cheek and squeezes the fabric of Cas’ shirt between his fingers. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you’re staying.”

Cas lingers longer than he should, but having Dean in his arms feels too good and he doesn’t want to let go. He pats Dean’s shoulder when he finally does. Dean’s looking at him expectantly, and asks, “You ready for dinner?”

“Yes, show me this new recipe you’ve decided to try.”

Dean’s answering grin lights up the room more than the sun streaming through the window.

* * *

Cas lets Dean take the reins during dinner. He helps out where he can, chopping vegetables how Dean instructs, but watches him the rest of the time. Dean gets tired of his staring after about five minutes, huffs out a laugh, and hands him a beer while telling him to “do another walkthrough of the place.” So Cas wanders, beer in hand, around the downstairs of the house, ending up back in the kitchen near the back door looking out at the view. 

The house echoes with the sounds of Dean’s cooking: the clanging of the spatula on the pan, the sizzling of their food, and Dean’s quiet humming of Zeppelin under his breath while he works. The sun is dipping lower in the sky at the peak of golden hour and it sends a kaleidoscope of light dancing across Dean, who is in direct sight of the window at the stove. His freckles pop in the glow, highlighting his cheeks, the slant of his jaw, and the methodical work of his hands as he adds stir-fry vegetables to the chicken. He’s relaxed and comfortable, and it’s still a side of Dean that Cas isn’t used to seeing, even a year after retiring from hunting. 

He’s happy. They both are. 

Cas is so in love with him, his entire soul aches. It’s not new, he’s felt this way for years, but constantly having Dean in his orbit only intensifies his longing. Sometimes it hits him more than normal and right now is one of those times. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Dean asks. He briefly looks up, catching Cas’ gaze from across the room and then darting his eyes back down.

Cas’ cheeks heat up, human embarrassment flooding his system. He doesn’t like it; it makes him feel vulnerable. 

“I like watching you cook,” Cas answers, recovering quickly. It’s not a lie, he does. 

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Whatever floats your boat, Cas.”

_ You _ rests on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down with a swig of beer.

It’s not that Cas doesn’t think Dean loves him, he knows Dean does. Knows it like he knows breathing. Dean loves unapologetically and with a force that neither heaven nor hell can touch, this Cas has seen first hand. 

But he doesn’t love Cas in the way Cas wishes he would. He’s had to accept that. They are friends, best friends, and Cas would rather keep things as they are than risk the potential to lose him all together. 

“Food’s up,” Dean says, breaking Cas out of his thoughts. 

Cas looks up and finds Dean dishing the concoction of meat and vegetables onto the two plates he brought from the motel. It smells delicious, fragrant of cumin, paprika and a hint of turmeric. “I figured we could eat on the porch,” Dean continues, handing Cas a plate of steaming food. “It’s not the same as a table, but it’s sorta tradition I think, if you have a new house, roughing it until shit gets put together.”

Cas nods in agreement, his stomach growling impatiently. “Tradition?”

Dean shrugs as he leans into the fridge to grab them both a second beer. “I guess, I wouldn’t really know. Might as well make our own traditions, right?”

Something warm and dangerous tinges in Cas’ chest at Dean’s words. “Right.”

The sun is starting to set by the time they settle onto the top step of the porch. Cas rests his plate on his knees, and sets his beer on the step down next to his feet. Dean plops down next to him, closer than Cas is used to. Dean’s thigh presses warm against his own and it’s simultaneously distracting and comfortable which, frankly, describes Dean to a T. 

Dean digs in right away, glancing up now and again at the orange flickering of the river in front of them, and the distant crimson clouds floating across the sky. Cas tries a bite of eggplant first. He’d had the vegetable before as an angel, but he’d eaten it out of necessity to fit into the human world rather out of bodily need and it had been flavorless. 

The texture is slightly mushy, softer than a potato, similar to a squash, and he chews it easy. The flavor would be bland without the myriad of spices Dean mixed together for the dish, but it tastes good how he prepared it. 

“I can see the gears turning around in there, what do you think?” Dean asks. 

Cas savors it, then swallows thickly, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’d eat it again. The spices help add to the flavor.”

“Hmm, good to know.”

“Does Sam like eggplant?”

“Sam’s the least picky eater I know, he’ll try anything. You can be picky sometimes, at least from what I’ve noticed, but you’re always open to trying things, which I appreciate.”

“Well, you’re a good cook, that helps,” Cas says, shooting Dean a soft smile. 

Dean, as expected, blushes, and hides his bashful smile behind the neck of his beer bottle. Maybe one day, Cas hopes, Dean will become more used to positive compliments.

“How is the blog going?” Cas asks.

As soon as they moved out to Waldport and Dean took on the venture of building a house from scratch and expanding his cooking skills, he started a blog. Not just any blog, but one of those Mommy Home and Garden Recipe blogs that middle-aged women across the country spend hours on each day pouring over looking for new things to try for their family.  _ Dean’s Little Slice of Paradise _ is a work in progress, content slowly increasing as the house gets put together. Cas knows as soon as they get all the furnishings finished, Dean will want Cas to take a thousand pictures of him showing off their new house. 

Honestly, it is adorable. Cas doesn’t mind. As long as it makes Dean happy and is helping him find new things he enjoys, that’s all Cas could ever want for him. 

Plus, he’s found some phenomenal pie recipes, which Cas is  _ always _ willing to be a taste-tester for. 

Dean’s face lights up the moment Cas mentions the blog. 

“Great! I have to make a post later tonight that I finally finished the house, they’re gonna freak.”

“I bet,” Cas agrees. He takes a drag off his beer, half of his food gone now. His body is beginning to feel more content. 

Dean nudges Cas’ side with his elbow, holding up his half-drunk bottle of beer. “Cheers?”

“To what?” Cas asks. 

“New beginnings?” Dean offers, with a quirked smile. 

It is new. But it’s also well-deserved after all they’ve been through over the years. 

“Yes,” Cas agrees, “New beginnings.”

He clinks his bottle against Dean’s and takes a long drink of the beer, finishing the bottle off. He watches Dean down the rest of his, lips parted obscenely around the mouth of the beer. Cas lets himself watch, even though he isn’t allowed to, until Dean swallows thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing. Dean looks over at Cas with a lifted eyebrow and absentmindedly licks the lingering liquid from his lips. “What?”

Cas feels a rush of arousal go through him and he sucks in a deep breath, desperately trying to think of anything but Dean. It’s difficult considering Dean is _ right there.  _ He’s not mastered the art of controlling his bodily reactions since becoming human again, but he tries. He has to.

“Nothing,” Cas says, chuckling at himself, even as his eyes continue to gaze over Dean and how the sunset dashes rays of red across his cheeks. “Just you.”

“Me?” Dean asks. He knocks his knee into Cas’ thigh and sends him half-falling over to the side. Cas catches himself, faux glaring at Dean, who giggles at him. 

“I’m proud of you,” Cas says, once they recover from their mutual giggle fit. “This is a big accomplishment. I know it’s something you really wanted.”

“It is. Honestly, I can’t wait to move in. As much as I love that little motel, it’s noisy in town, too much shit going on all the time, out here it’s quiet, just you and me...” Dean pauses, and Cas watches as he fiddles with the fabric of his jeans around his knees. “Seems right I guess. I wanted a place to finally call home and this is more than anything I could have dreamed of.”

“It’s beautiful, Dean.”

Dean nods, staring down at his shoes, not looking at Cas like Cas wishes he would. But the soft smile on his face is all of a reply Cas needs. 

“Guess we better start packing, huh?” Dean asks, finally looking up and meeting Cas’ eyes.

“I guess so.”

They’ve got work to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Two Weeks Later **

Dean has a small box of pictures cradled in his arms as he walks up the front steps of their house. It’s hot, the late June summer sun showing its true heat at midday, and he’s already sweating underneath his thin t-shirt. The moment he steps inside the house, he’s awash in the coolness from the window A/C units he’d installed last week, one upstairs and one downstairs. Oregon wasn’t hot by any means comparatively to the south and the midwest where Dean spent most of his life, but he wasn’t about to suffer through another summer without good air conditioning when it was easily accessible now. 

Cas isn’t home yet, still has another two hours or so left at the Gas N’ Sip, not that Dean’s counting. Except that he totally is. He doesn’t mind having the house to himself for a few hours at a time, but any longer and he starts to get restless in the uncomfortable silence of being alone. That’s partially why he decided today would be picture day. 

They finished mostly furnishing the house yesterday after Cas got off work, lugged in the last bit of things they’d collected over the years from the trunk of the Impala. It’s weird to see her mostly empty, with only the few remaining weapons Dean was hesitant to let go of in her trunk. He’d found a box of pictures hidden near the back corner of the trunk next to where he keeps the extra rounds. After they moved from Lebanon, he’d tucked the photos there for safe keeping, for when he fulfilled his dream. It was finally time to put them up. 

A dozen of the photos are older, ones of him and Sam as kids, teenagers, a few of John and Mary, two of Bobby; all slightly yellow on the edges, weathered over the years. The others, the new ones, were taken within the past five years: Sam going back off to college, celebratory nights after hunts, that one special family dinner with Jack, some of him and Sam, him and Mom, and a few with Cas. They all resonate with him, and each deserve the perfect spot somewhere in his new home, sprinkled throughout the halls, but a majority of them he plans to contain to his bedroom. 

Family is the most important part of life for him, and even when they aren’t around physically, their images remind him of their love.

Dean trudges up the stairs to his room and deposits the box carefully on the top of his comforter. He purposefully left a wall of his room empty for some of these pictures. Now, to decide which ones. 

He takes out some of his favorites: three of the ones from when he and Sam were kids, one when they were older right after Dad came back and things were okay, where they are smiling at each other. One that he managed to take with Mom before she died, the picture of their small family back together again, no matter how briefly Dad was there; it was enough. 

Until recently the few pictures Dean had of Cas were only on his phone, taken randomly in the middle of a diner when Cas laughed at something he’d said, or post-hunt while having celebratory drinks, or during the small jaunts they would take between hunts and the various apocalypses that happened over the years. Most of the ones of him and Cas together are recent. Being around him so often has allowed Dean more freedom to casually snap a picture of Cas or the both of them together. Cas doesn’t always smile, but he’s been doing that a lot more lately. He’s happy, and Dean’s glad that regardless of the reason, he is at least partially responsible in a tiny way for Cas’ newfound joy. 

One of his favorite pictures of him and Cas isn’t one he took, but one Sam took. They were sitting at a diner somewhere in Kentucky on the way back to Lebanon after a hunt. Cas had said something innocuous about the menu, something about the ways of humanity he thought were strange. Dean laughed and looked over at him like he always does. Except Sam, terrible brother he is, decide to snap a picture of the moment. He captured Cas’ confused face _ perfectly _and caught Dean looking at Cas with the kind of lovesick look Dean has never seen on anyone else, let alone himself. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was in love with Cas, but before then he hadn’t been aware of how obvious it was to everyone else. 

Sam’s teasing that ensued after the fact once Cas was out of earshot was expected, but not appreciated.

He puts that photo to the side. He’ll hang that one up in here.

There’s one picture he’s been saving, not for his room, but Cas’ library nook -- the selfie they took at sunset the day Dean finished the house. It’s one of his favorite pictures of the two of them together. He is taking the picture, angling it so the top of the house and the front door peaks behind their heads. His arm is slung easily around Cas’ shoulders, and he remembers the warmth of Cas’ arm snugly fitting around his back. They’re both smiling big bright sunshine grins, which in and of itself makes this one of Dean’s favorite photos. But it’s the proud look on his own face that makes it stellar. He’s never been proud of much - hunting, sure, but that’s in his blood at this point. It wasn’t something he chose to be good at, he just _ was _. This is something completely different. 

This house he did for himself, for Cas, and for Sam; he finally gave himself and his family a home. 

He picks up the image and puts it to the side, separate from the others until he figures out which frame to put it in. 

There is a box of frames in his closet and he drags them out, plops the second box onto the bed, and starts to sort through the various sizes before getting to work. 

Then, he starts hanging. 

He loses track of time, meticulously measuring the spacing between pictures on the wall until it satisfies him. Dean finishes the wall in his room, setting aside the pictures reserved for the rest of the house and Cas’ library nook for another day. When he checks his watch again, it’s around four, still two hours before Cas will be home. 

On his days off, Dean had been using the time to finish the house, but now that it’s finished, he uses it for chores, fixing the furnishings - or, when it’s all completed, blog time. He’d never considered himself an internet aficionado, minus porn maybe, but without hunting he needed a hobby. More like five hobbies, considering hunting had been his life. Much to Sam’s dismay, Dean had followed various “Mommy Cooking Blogs” for years, which Sam _ should _ be grateful for because it meant Dean cooked some friggin’ awesome meals. Post-hunting, in the ample spare time he had outside of house building, Dean started cooking. Sam and all his tech-savviness helped Dean create his own blog for his cooking ventures and recipes, all of which Sam and Cas thought deserved to be shared with the outside world and thousands of hungry moms searching for ideas. Yeah, _ thousands, _3478 to be exact. 

Dean had meant to make a post about the house a few days after it was completed, but now two weeks and a couple dozen pictures later, Dean is finally sitting down to update his loyal followers. 

He settles in at the kitchen table, an ice cold beer in hand, and pops open the window a few inches to let in some fresh air and gets to writing. 

**_Dean’s Little Slice of Paradise_ **

_ Hey everyone! _

_ I know you’ve all been waiting so patiently for the past year and asking about the house. _

_ Well, good news: it’s finished! _

_ My blog name finally lives up to its potential, as this little home of ours sure turned out to be everything I wanted and then some. _

_ I’m a little behind, honestly. The final touches fell into place this past week, and I wanted to post a few pictures for you all of the final product. Cas helped me out with that, so you can all thank him for his superb photography skills. He’s more inept at technology than me, so it’s a wonder any of these turned out at all. _

Dean inserts ten photos, many of which are of him in various places around the home, showing it off with a grin on his face. He attaches the one of him and Cas at the front of the house too because he loves it so much, along with one of the botched selfies. It’s... cute to say the least. Cas had made a comment about the fact that selfies weren’t actually selfies if you were with another person and the whole premise of the idea didn’t make sense, and it sent Dean into a fit of laughter. Why? He still doesn’t know. Okay, well he sorta knows since he’s hopelessly in love with him, but the combo of his elated laughter and Cas’ scrunched, confused expression makes for the perfect picture. 

_I’m putting the final touches on Cas’ beehives this week. I don’t really know how he’s getting the bees, but he’s determined to go out into the forest and find some like he’s Snow White. He’s a bee whisperer, that’s his secret. _

_ I’ll post more pictures of those once everything gets settled. I’m trying out a new pie recipe tonight -- salmonberry and raspberries. I know I’m going to love it, but let’s hope Cas does. He wasn’t too fond of the name salmonberry when I mentioned it. He’s usually a good tester though, and I am always receptive to feedback even if his opinion is wrong. _

_ Anyway, subscribe for more updates from Paradise. :) _

_ \-- Dean _

Dean hits post and smiles in satisfaction as the page refreshes and his new blog post appears at the top of his profile. He might as well get started on dinner, Cas will be home in -- Dean checks his watch -- about an hour now, maybe sooner if Gerald decided to let him go early. Some nights Dean has trouble figuring out what to cook, not for lack of ideas, mostly because he's not used to having a kitchen big enough for creativity. Cas will try anything once, though his taste is rather selective on the food he does like. Tonight, Dean decides, will be something easy -- homemade mac n’ cheese. He does have a new pie recipe to try out after all. 

Cas gets home right on time and promptly heads upstairs after greeting Dean to change out of his uniform. It’s been a little over a year and Dean is finally getting used to seeing Cas in civilian clothes sans trench coat. 

They eat once Cas comes back downstairs, looking comfy and huggable in one of his newer soft cotton t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. His t-shirt is light blue, a little too big so that it hangs off his shoulder if he moves around too much. He’d found it hanging on the clearance rack at Goodwill for a dollar fifty and fallen in love with it immediately. Dean has a love-hate relationship with this shirt due to the occasional peeks he gets of Cas’ collarbones and shoulders.

Cas practically scarfs down his food after Dean gets everything situated on the table. Cas has told Dean that this mac n’ cheese is one of his favorite, the kick of spice does give it a little something extra. Together, they wash dishes, Cas cleaning and Dean drying. Afterwards, they move out onto the porch to watch the sunset, beers in hand, the smell of Dean’s cooking pie wafting out from the open window next to them.

“What did you do today?” Cas asks, looking at Dean from around his beer. He’s sitting next to Dean on the bench. They’re facing the river and Cas has his knees pulled up to his chin, beer bottle resting in his lap. Rays of sunlight catch Cas’ profile in shadow, making him appear to be carved out of molten marble. His goddamn shirt is falling off his shoulder again. 

Dean takes a swig of beer, trying to focus on something other than the tanned curve of Cas’ shoulder and indents of his collarbones Dean wants to mark up. “Uh, I sorted through some things, hung up pictures finally, and wrote a blog post. Oh, I also talked to a few of the ladies at the library in town, they may have a job for me.”

“Dean, you just finished the house, you deserve a rest.”

Dean shrugs. “Yeah, well, we need money.”

“Sam can always send us more, I know he gets a thrill from stealing from the Republicans.”

Dean chuckles and nods in agreement. “True, but I don’t want him to get caught. If he’s in jail how’s he supposed to visit?” 

“Is he coming to visit soon?” Cas asks. 

“Think so, I planned on calling him tonight to ask, but he said for the Fourth of July he would be up. He’ll probably stay for a few days until he has to go back down for school.”

“It will be nice to see him.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, thinking about how this is the longest he’s gone willingly without seeing Sam since Sam left for Stanford the first time. “It will.”

As the sun dips down past the horizon, the river sparkles in the glow, the surface dancing in thousands of diamonds. Dean gets the best view — Cas’ profile, curled up on the bench next to Dean while he watches the sunset, a smile of awe on his face. They finish off their beers as the world around them erupts into fiery orange.

“You chose the perfect spot, Dean,” Cas says. The clouds dotting the sky turn a mix of bright pink, darker red, and orange. 

Dean glances around at their yard, the edge of the porch where it curves and goes around to the side of the house near the kitchen. He looks down the slight hill leading up to the water’s edge where the river laps against the grass. The Impala and Cas’ truck, parked side by side, both stark in their differences of color, but sentimental in their meaning. He looks back at Cas, sitting next to him on the bench, the tips of his toes brushing Dean’s thigh, beer bottle held loose in his hand, illuminated in the golden glow. 

“Yeah, I think I did.”

With sunset comes cooler temperatures. Dean suggests they head inside when Cas starts shivering in his thin t-shirt, goosebumps popping up all over his arms. He’s been hypersensitive to cold ever since he became human. It annoys him, he’s told Dean as much, but he remains indifferent, looking at it as a minimal sacrifice for the other joys of humanity. 

Dean doesn’t get it, but he doesn’t try to either. 

“Can I see the pictures?” Cas asks, once they’re inside and he is marginally warmed up. He tends to walk around the house in the evenings, even in the summers, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders to keep himself warm and today is no exception. It trails behind him like a veil as he walks up the stairs in front of Dean, the soft, dark green fabric swishing around him as he walks. 

He pauses next to the doorway once he is inside Dean’s room, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him.

Dean hangs back, admiring his work, while Cas steps forward, reaching up to trace his fingers along the edges of the frames. He lingers on the one of them taken in front of the house.

“I like this one,” Cas says, fond. 

“Me too, it’s one of my favorites.”

“We should take more pictures together,” Cas states. 

“Yeah? We haven’t really had the chance until now.”

“Exactly, we need to make up for lost time.” He’s teasing, that much is evident in his tone, but there’s also a note of severity to it that causes Dean to make a mental note in his head: take more pictures with Cas. 

“Alright, we can work on that.”

Cas looks over his shoulder at Dean and smiles, gentle. “Good. You should call Sam.”

Dean nods, turning to look at one of the pictures of Sam hanging on the wall. “I should.”

* * *

Dean waits to call Sam until after Cas is secluded up in his room, curled up with his latest science novel or trash romance. He reads the strangest combination of genres for books, and yet always has something profound to say about the cheesiest romance. 

Cas does end up liking Dean’s pie concoction, it’s his new favorite. That pleases Dean far more than it probably should. He’ll have to update the blog tomorrow with Cas’ detailed description of the flavor profile.

Dean finishes putting away said pie, wrapping it up for the night after scarfing down a second piece of his own, and then heads back outside onto the porch, phone in hand. It’s late for him, but early for Sam, nearly ten, but he’ll just be getting off work. Dean settles onto the porch swing, adjusting the thicker flannel wrapped around him and curves his feet under his thigh to keep them warm from the evening chill. Sam picks up on the second ring. 

“Dean!”

“Heya Sammy, how are you?”

“Great! I just got home from work, it was a rough day but it’s so good to hear your voice. How is everything?”

Dean sighs, heavy into the phone but it’s of relief that Sam is okay and making it out there without him. 

“It’s... good. I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this calm and content. Shit’s weird, ya know? The house is perfect, just like I wanted it to be and we’re settling in easily. Feels natural, too natural almost worried I forgot something.”

Sam laughs into Dean’s ear and Dean knows his brother is shaking his head at him. “Dean, you built a fucking house in an entire year, that’s amazing. I can still come and see you guys for the fourth right?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Dean says, firm, because the last thing he wants is for Sam to ever feel like he doesn’t belong with his family. 

“I know,” Sam answers, quiet and honest, and Dean can’t wait for Sam to visit. He really needs to hug him, to reassure himself that Sam is alright out there. Sam is an adult, but the ingrained protective part of Dean needs to know for certain. 

“Good, you better,” Dean teases. 

“How’s Cas?” Sam asks. 

“Doing great. He’s really settling in. I was worried there for awhile that maybe being human a second time was going to be too much, but he’s taken to it. He’s still working at Gas N’ Sip. I think he’s gonna go try and find some bees tomorrow. I don’t know how, but he seems to know what he’s doing. He’s helping me cook now and make pie, he’s okay, happy even.”

“That’s good. I was worried.”

There’s a pause over the line and Sam continues, “Have you told him yet?”

Dean groans. “Sam.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

Dean huffs, adjusting the phone against his ear. “No, I haven’t. Never seemed like the right time, and I won’t lose him, not over this.”

Sam sighs, petulant, right into Dean’s ear. “He loves you.”

“Yeah, as a _ friend _ and I’d like to keep it that way and not fuck it up.”

They’ve talked about this before, rehashed Dean’s feelings for Cas probably ten times since he newly fell and never get closer to any sort of resolution. Dean doesn’t think there is one, he’s going to tough it out, and keep Cas as close as Cas will let him, whatever that means. If that means their friendship and love goes beyond the line of normal but never crosses the boundary Dean wants it to? So be it. 

“Whatever,” Sam says, with a small laugh, clearly done fighting with Dean about this. “But you better find some big ass fireworks that we can shoot off on the beach. It’s gonna be the best Fourth of July since 1994.”

“You bet it is.”

“I’ll be there on Friday night, probably late depending on how the traffic out of San Francisco is.”

“We’ll be up, drive safe.”

“I always do. Love you, Dean.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah, love you too Sammy.”

Sam ends the call and Dean sits outside for another few minutes, phone cradled in his lap while he looks up at the stars and the crescent moon illuminating the sky, enjoying the solace of his new home.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas wakes in the pitch darkness to the sound of a loud thud against the wall. He sits up abruptly in bed, frantically scanning his room for the source of the noise, heart rate pounding erratically in his chest. It’s silent, until a few seconds later he hears Dean’s voice from next door. 

“No!” Dean yells, followed by some incoherent mumbling and a series of “no’s” that dissolve into half-sobs. 

It gets Cas out of bed and rushing over next door. He should knock first, but knows that in this sort of state Dean is oblivious to everything going on and will not hear him. Unlike Cas, who stays still during nightmares, Dean thrashes about, arms flailing every which way, pounding at the mattress with a fist while he cries out. It’s what Cas sees immediately when he walks into the room. Dean’s sheets are twisted around his waist, legs splayed across the bed while he rocks from side to side, cursing and sobbing out a series of no’s mixed with “Cas!” and “Sam!”

“Dean, wake up,” Cas says, projects his voice so it’s loud enough to be heard over Dean’s own torment. 

“Cas,” Dean whimpers, and this time, instead of anger, a tear slips down the side of his cheek and he starts shaking his head. 

Cas sighs and kneels down next to the bed, resting one of his palms flat onto Dean’s upper arm. He spreads his fingers out, mimicking the shape of the hand print that used to be etched into Dean’s skin, but has been healed for many years now. The connection that mark fettered between them still exists and Cas uses it now. He releases a burst of his miniscule reservoir of grace into Dean and waits. At first nothing happens, Dean twists and turns against his hand, but Cas holds him as tight as he can without hurting him, then slowly Dean relaxes. He wakes a few seconds later disoriented and scrambles under Cas’ hand, unknowing who Cas is at first, and Cas suddenly has a gun in his face. 

“Dean, it’s me,” Cas says, calmly, pressing two fingers against the barrel of the gun and pushing it away. 

Dean releases a heavy breath and flops back down onto the mattress, burying his gun back underneath his pillow and scrubbing a hand through his hair.

“Fuck, Cas. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” Cas says, honest. “You were having a nightmare and I couldn’t stand to hear you in pain anymore.”

“Was dreaming about you and Sam dying again, so the usual,” Dean admits with a dark laugh. 

Cas wishes everyday he could take these memories away from Dean and ease his sleep as he used to. It’s the one thing he misses being able to do: erase suffering completely.

“How do you feel now?”

“Uh,” Dean frowns, looks briefly over at where Cas’ hand is covering his arm. “Weirdly relaxed?”

“Good, that means it worked,” Cas says. He adjusts his hand position on Dean’s arm, unsure of how to get himself to move. The connection between them is strong after the brief transference of grace and he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Cas, what did you do?”

“Only helped a little, I can’t do much but a bit of the grace I have left does eliminate minor ailments,” Cas explains. 

“Won’t that hurt you? You shouldn’t waste it on me,” Dean grumbles, trying to shy away from Cas’ hand. 

Cas grips him tighter and shakes his head. “It’s not a waste.”

“Well,” Dean says after a moment, “Thanks.”

“Of course, do you think you can go back to sleep?”

“It may take a bit, but yeah. Sorry I woke you.”

“It’s alright, Dean. I’m glad you’re okay now. Do you want me to stay for a bit?”

“No, I’m good. Go back to sleep,” Dean says, smiling sleepily at him. 

Regretfully, Cas removes his hand from Dean’s arm and gets back to his feet. “Alright, good night.”

Dean catches Cas’ fingers when he starts to walk away, and squeezes them briefly between his before releasing them. “Thanks again, good night.”

Cas’ fingers stay warm from Dean’s touch until he dozes back off to sleep again.

* * *

After a tumultuous night, Cas’ morning starts out with a hunt for bees. He could have bought the bees, but he wanted wild ones, and the ability to provide them a sturdy home safe from weather. However, finding wild bees in Oregon, isn’t the easiest task. He ends up hiking through the woods for a good mile or so until he comes to a small clearing. There are a few thousand daisies scattered in the grassland, swaying in the slight breeze. It’s then that he hears the buzzing, quiet but omnipresent and he heads towards the sound. 

Situated far up in an old oak tree there’s a medium sized hive, a few dozen bees flying around the outside. He stands directly beneath it and a few of them buzz down to see the new intruder, blipping around his head. He holds out a finger upwards towards the tree and pushes the remnants of his grace still inhabiting his body out to that one point. One curious bee circles his finger and then lands on the tip. An increase in the buzzing sounds around him and Cas feels them start to respond to his grace, ten more bees drift down towards him in a clump from the hive. He wasn’t sure if this would still work, with the minimal amount of grace he has left, so small he can barely heal minor cuts, but it’s enough. He stretches out his open palm to them and the new group lands, spreading out on his palm, fingers, and the lower half of his forearm. He holds still, careful not to move or startle the creatures. 

“Would you like to come home with me? My friend Dean made a nice home for you,” Cas whispers. 

The first bee moves from his finger tip and buzzes up around his face, landing right on his nose for the briefest of moments and then lifts off again, flying high back up to the hive. 

The buzzing softens and the bees still resting on him cluster together communicating with his grace. He can feel it, distantly like the echo of a train horn, their answer to his question.

“I promise I will take care of you.”

The cluster hums happily and then takes off together, floating back up to the hive leaving just as quickly as they came. He feels the loss acutely, his grace missing the natural connection to nature it has so missed since he’s been human. He thinks maybe he misinterpreted, until all at once the entire swarm mass exoduses from the hive, floating down in one large group. 

They hover in front of him, buzzing increasingly getting louder until Cas asks, “Ready?”

Suddenly, they quiet to a low hum so Cas turns and starts walking back the way he came. He pauses a couple hundred feet down back through the forest to make sure they are still following him. Amazingly, they are.

He takes his time going back home, not wanting to tire them out, making sure to stop periodically in case they need sustenance. Dean happens to be working outside on the Impala, tuning her up, when Cas walks back onto their property. He’s under the hood lying on a creeper, when Cas passes by. Cas can only imagine what he looks like right now, calmly walking through their yard with a huge hive of bees trailing after him. 

Cas pauses a couple feet from Baby and the bees stop with him, hovering a few feet behind his head. 

“What the hell is that noise?” Dean slides out from under the car and bonks the top of his head on the bumper. “Ow, fuck.” 

“Hey Cas,” Dean says, looking up at him from upside down, smile contorting into a strange confused scowl when he sees the cloud of bees. “Uh Cas... why... is there a group of bees following you?”

“They’ve decided to come home with me.”

“Okay,” Dean starts, dubious, gobsmacked. “And  _ how _ did you convince them to do that?”

“Magic,” Cas deadpans, then winks at Dean who merely gapes at him as Cas continues across the yard towards the bee hives. 

He hears the sound of Dean’s footfall behind him as he walks across the lawn, buzzing vibrating in his ears. Dean situated the hives near the side of the house, closer to the barn and halfway between the edge of the river. They’re underneath a few dozen trees and surrounded by patches of wildflowers, mostly daisies right now, but Cas plans to plant a garden near here one day with a variety of flowers, vegetables, and herbs for the bees to pollinate - also for Dean to use in his cooking. 

“Are they just gonna go in there? How does this work?” Dean asks, from somewhere behind him. 

Cas turns back to look at him and shrugs. “I don’t know. They seem taken to me, maybe they will do it if I ask? However, that seems too easy.” The bees are still in fact huddled about ten feet above his head and Cas watches as Dean stares up at them warily, keeping his distance. 

As Cas comes closer to the hives, the potent smell of newly cut cedar fills his nostrils. Dean hammered in the final nail a few days ago. They’re small, made out of darker wood with little notches for the bees to enter and leave as well as the proper amount of drawers for honey production. Cas walks around behind the hives and waits, eyeing the bees as they hover closer. 

“Dean made these for you and if you’d like, they can be your new home.”

A few of the bees swing down from the cluster, circling the hives and flying into the holes checking the hives out. Cas watches them with rapt attention trying to garner their reaction from the connection he has with them through his grace. He sends out another burst from his fingertip into the cluster and their buzzing increases. 

“Did you just... zap them?” Dean asks, astonished. 

“Only a little. They seem to like it.”

The rest of the bees start to move together swirling down in a spiral and split into three groups, all heading into each of the hives. When they don’t come out, and Cas is left with the sound of distant humming, he can only assume this means they’ve taken to their new homes. 

“That was awesome! They must really like you.” Dean is closer now, taken a spot beside Cas, arms crossed over his chest and watching the hives as the bees start to flit in and out of the boxes, slowly starting to make their new home, theirs. 

“I guess so,” Cas says, grinning. 

His grace is drained from the last zap and it won’t replenish the little amount he has until a few hours from now. He will be disconnect from the bees until then. 

“Hey Cas?” Dean asks, pulling him out of his future bee plans. “You wanna go out later? I was thinking of heading into town, I want a drink and it’s been awhile since I’ve been in a bar. What do you think, wanna join me?”

“I could drink a few beers,” Cas agrees, thinking of how loose and uninhibited his body feels once he’s got a few drinks in him. It takes less alcohol to get him drunk as a human and the relaxation a night out every once in a while brings is something he needs. 

Dean claps him on the shoulder, “Awesome. We can leave around six? After dinner?”

“Yes, perfect.”

Dean nods, patting Cas’ shoulder one more time and then he’s off again, muttering, “friggin’ bees,” under his breath. He’s unaware of Cas’ observing eye as he lifts up the front of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, showing a bit of skin wandering back to the barn to slip under the Impala again. 

Cas turns back towards his bees, promptly sitting down right in the grass, a few feet away and watches, waiting for them to allow him to bond with them. 


	5. Chapter 5

Six o’clock comes sooner rather than later and before Dean knows it they’re in the Impala and headed west into town. The ocean breeze is aromatic coming in through the open windows while they drive. Cas has a bare arm resting on the window, staring out at the passing scenery letting the wind ruffle up his hair. He elected to wear a deep blue v-neck t-shirt tonight with a pair of tight jeans. He’s driving Dean completely crazy with the way his tanned arms are just out there and visible. Dean has been caught in a mindloop of all the things those hands and arms can do since they got into the car. 

Cas is distracting to say the least. 

Dean is hoping there may be someone here tonight at Uptown that will temporarily relieve him of his Cas-centric frustration. He’s not holding out much hope, but there’s always at least a few attractive women hanging around Uptown, even this early in the evening. 

Uptown Pub is, to put it plainly, a dive. On the outside it looks like every other dive bar in existence, paint peeling in thick strips off the side of the wood, a faded sign hanging over the front door promising cheap whiskey and even cheaper beer. It’s Dean’s usual hangout when he wants a jaunt after work, which happens occasionally. He drinks a lot less than he used to and more for personal pleasure now rather than soothing internal -- and external -- wounds, the stress of his carpentry job significantly less taxing than hunting ever was. 

Cas picks a booth near the middle of the bar, slides up to the side nearest the wall and tells Dean to order for him. He does, orders them both beers, figures it will be smart to keep it slow tonight. Dean wants to drive home after all, even if he gets a future date out of it. He won’t just leave Cas, he’s not an asshole. 

Upon entering the bar, he immediately scanned the vicinity for anyone interesting. There’s a pretty brunette sitting at the bar, wearing one of those skin-tight dresses that hugs her curves. It’s teal and comes down to about mid-thigh, showing off her legs. She’s gorgeous, smiling at the bartender with one of those sweet I-will-charm-your-family smiles. 

She’s sipping on a fancy cocktail with a little umbrella hanging off the side. He steps up next to her at the bar, shooting her a warm smile as he orders drinks for him and Cas. 

She giggles when he winks at her, blushing at the attention. 

“What’s your name?” Dean asks. 

He’s sure he’s seen her around town before, hard not to when you live in a city as small as Waldport, but he can’t put a name to her face. 

“Amber. And you are... Dean right?”

Dean gives her a cheeky smile. “The one and only.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean. You here alone tonight?”

“With my friend Cas,” Dean answers, gesturing over at Cas. “But otherwise, yes.”

“Looks like it might be my lucky night then.”

Dean grins, almost comically big. He likes her, she’s honest and knows what she wants.

“You know what? Lemme just give my friend his beer and I’ll come right back.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Amber says. She reaches out, drags her fingertips down his arm, back up again. Yeah, she’s definitely into him. 

Dean snags the two beers and heads back to Cas, depositing both of them onto the sticky table in front of him. 

Cas takes the beer and nods his head towards Amber at the bar. “I see you’ve found someone to talk to.”

“Yep, that okay?”

Cas shrugs, sipping on his beer. “It’s fine, have fun. I’ll be here.”

Dean gauges Cas’ real reaction and finds him unusually jittery, rapping his fingers on the label of his beer and not focusing visually on anything around him other than Dean. 

“You sure?”

Cas rolls his eyes and shoos at Dean with his hand, “Yes, go.”

Dean gives him a thumbs up, grabs his beer and heads back over to Amber. 

“So,” Amber starts the moment he sits down, “You build things right? Nancy, one of the librarians, was telling me about how you built her a bookshelf in two days.”

Dean nods, sipping at his beer. “Yeah, wasn’t too hard, and they really needed the extra space.”

“Well, you certainly must be good with your hands.”

The comment comes out of left field, but Dean isn’t surprised when one of her hands ends up gripping his thigh. He scoots closer to her and slips and arm around her shoulders. She smells like strawberries, her lips shine with cheap lip gloss and a dash of pink eye shadow covers her eyelids. 

“I definitely am.”

“Well,” Amber says, drawing out the L, “I’d sure like to find out.”

Dean licks his lips and nods, leaning in to press and kiss on the curve of her neck right beneath her ear. She gasps quietly, barely audible, and digs her nails into his thigh.

“Follow me,” he whispers into her ear and she nods enthusiastically. 

It’s still too light outside for making out in the alleyways, so he finds a dark corner by the old jukebox instead. He backs Amber up against it, greedy mouth finding her lips and kissing her. His mouth is sticky from the lip gloss on hers, but she’s sweet and opens for him so easily, letting him lick into her mouth and pull a whine from her throat. He slips a thigh between her legs while they kiss, grabbing her ass to get her to come closer, to grind on him a little bit. She whimpers into the kiss, and drags her teeth down over his bottom lip. 

“Hey Dean, wait a minute,” Amber starts. She pulls fully back from his mouth, lips shiny and swollen from kissing and eyes him with distaste. “I just remembered something Nancy told me. Aren’t you married?”

“Aren’t I, _ what _?” 

Dean’s eyes must be bugging out of his head, they have to be. Married? What?

“Yeah! She told me that the last time I saw her. She said that...” she pauses dropping her voice down to a whisper, “That you and Cas say you’re just friends so as not to arouse suspicion from the more homophobic locals, but that you’re actually married.”

“What?!” Dean asks, dumbly. 

Amber shrugs out of his grasp and takes a full step back, face a mess of shame and guilt. “Sounds like most of the people in town think so. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Holy shit.”

“What?” 

“We’re _ not _ married.”

“It’s okay Dean, I get it, do you and Cas have like an open relationship or something?”

Dean blinks at her. 

“No,” He says firmly. “We’re not married, at all. Nada.”

Amber takes a second and Dean sees a dozen emotions cross her face at once, before the flirtatious one from earlier is back and she comes back in, slipping her fingers through his belt loops. “Well, in that case do you want to pick up where we left off?”

Dean looks at her, how eager she is, feels the warmth of her pressed against him. He’s so tempted, but his mood is completely gone. All he wants is to be anywhere but here. He sucks in a breath and sighs heavily, gently removing her hands from him. 

“No, I... uh... I’m not feeling too good. Maybe next time?” He offers. 

Amber huffs and chuckles like she thinks it’s the stupidest excuse in the world, which, it sort of is. “Yeah,” she concedes and Dean knows she’s just being nice when she says, “Maybe next time.”

She presses a chaste, pitying kiss against his cheek and walks away, gathering up her things where she left them at the bar before she leaves waving goodbye to the bartender.

Dean sighs and pushes himself up off the jukebox and heads back over to Cas. 

He is so fucked. 

“Hey,” Dean says, sliding up next to Cas at the table. He bumps his elbow into Cas’ side. “You wanna get outta here?”

Cas looks at him in confusion. “I thought you wanted to be “out” tonight.”

“Well, yeah I did, but I don’t know if I’m feeling it anymore. If you wanna stay longer, we can,” Dean says, trying to act nonchalant about this, even though everything inside him is screaming. 

Everyone thinks they’re _ married _. He can’t fucking believe this. 

Cas looks down at his empty beer bottle, back up to Dean and then around the bar again. “Can we drink at home?”

“Uh, yeah?”

Cas smiles, pushing his beer bottle to the center of the table and getting up from his seat. “Let’s do that.” 

It’s nearly dark by the time they get home, twilight sky navy blue above them as they head inside. Dean gets the bottle of whiskey down from the cabinet, fills two glasses with ice and asks Cas to bring him down a flannel from upstairs. They don’t bother dragging chairs down from the porch to the water, instead Cas grabs a blanket out of the closet and carries that with him instead. He spreads it out close enough so they can dip their feet into the water, but far enough away the blanket won’t get wet. Dean plops down next to him on the blanket, leans against Cas, getting as close as he will allow himself, and clinks their glasses together. 

“Yeah,” he says, then takes a measure sip. “This is so much better.”

Cas nods, matching Dean’s drink and then kicks his bare feet in the water. The moon reflects on the surface, a bright light amongst the blackness. Dean kicks too and ends up splashing Cas’ jeans. Cas shoves at him with a lax hand in retaliation and sends Dean toppling over onto his side into a fit of laughter, whiskey spilling precariously over onto the grass. 

They end up talking about the past, about hunting and what they miss about it. Not much it turns out, aside from the heroic aspects is easily missed. They both agree that what they have now is something to be treasured, something neither of them thought they would ever have. Cas gets drunk first, ends up resting his shoulder on Dean’s and swooshing his feet through the water while he talks about the intricacies of the process of resurrection. Dean listens to him, focuses on the feel of Cas’ warm breath against his cheek, the weight of Cas comfortably resting on him. 

Dean wishes he was braver, maybe then he’d do something about this ache-y, needy feeling boiling in his chest that yearns for Cas in a way he’s never wanted anyone else. 

** _Dean’s Little Slice of Paradise_ **

_ Hey everyone! _

_ As you know the Fourth of July is this weekend and I, like all of you, am gearing up for a few days of awesome food and time with family. My brother Sam is coming to visit from Stanford for the holiday. Since going off to school, he’s transformed into more of a health nut than he used to be, so if anyone has some super healthy meals I can cook for him, that would be great. He’s not opposed to the classic barbecue and of course my friggin’ awesome pie, but, I love cooking for my family in general and I’d like to make something new for him while he’s here. _

_ Comment below with any yummy healthy recipes you have. _

_ I hope everyone has a great Fourth! _

_ \--Dean _

Sam does get in late, as expected. It’s nearly midnight by the time Dean hears the wheels of his Prius crunching through the gravel up to the house. Yeah, a _ Prius _, Dean almost disowned him. By Sam’s logic, buying the tiny car he could barely fit into was a small sacrifice in order to make up for the “years of global warming Dean caused purely from the Impala’s exhaust.” It was a joke, but Dean still called the car ugly every chance he got. 

Dean and Cas meet him at the door, where he’s standing on the porch illuminated by the light while he gets out and grabs his bags. 

He looks up, seeing them for the first time, and lights up into a grin. “Hey guys!” Sam’s gaze shifts up to the house above their heads and Dean watches his eyes track over the entire house, open wide in wonder. “Holy shit this is so much bigger than I imagined.”

“I’ve always wanted a big house,” Dean states proudly. 

Sam grins and jogs up the steps. He drops his bags onto the porch and drags Dean in by the collar of his shirt into a crushing hug. “I missed you.”

Dean squeezes him back, wrapping his arms around Sam’s shoulders, and clings to the back of Sam’s shirt. He’s finally here. “I missed you too.”

Sam claps him on the back and looks over to Cas, who is smiling at the two of them. “Cas, come here.”

Cas is a better hugger now than his angel self used to be, as he’s slowly getting the hang of it. This hug with Sam isn’t awkward at all. Cas properly wraps his arms around Sam’s middle, and rests his head on the notch of Sam’s shoulder. “It’s so good to see you,” Dean hears Cas say. 

“So you hungry?” Dean asks, once Sam and Cas have pulled apart.

“Starving,” Sam replies. 

“Good thing I saved you a plate.”

Cas and Dean help Sam gather up his bags. Cas hands the ones he has off to Dean so he can head into the kitchen and heat up the food. 

“Wanna see your room?” Dean asks. 

Sam nods enthusiastically, and if Dean isn’t mistaken, he’s a little teary. Sam has never had his own room, except for at the Bunker, but this is different. This house isn’t something made by someone else, this is Dean’s labor of love, and it was built for the people he loves. 

Sam beats Dean up the stairs and bursts into the room. It’s dimly lit by a lamp on the nightstand next to the mattress. Simple furnishings, as Sam won’t be around much, but there’s still a dresser, a desk, and Dean even hung up a few older pictures of them as kids in here. 

“Dean, it’s wonderful,” Sam breathes. He places his bags down on the bed and starts wandering around the room examining everything. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

Dean leaves to let Sam settle in and finds Cas downstairs, standing next to the microwave with a beer in his hand. There’s another bottle next to him on the counter, unopened. He hands it to Dean, who quirks his head at him. 

“I figured you both would want one,” Cas explains and Dean nods in agreement. 

“Thanks.”

“Does Sam like the room?” Cas asks. 

“Loves it.”

They let Sam eat, and talk intermittently between. Small talk, mostly about Sam’s drive and how school has been going, how he manages that along with his work schedule. Afterwards, they head outside onto the porch, taking their beers with them, and sit on the plush chairs at the curve of the porch. 

“Tell me about the bees, Cas, I’m curious,” Sam says, leaning forward to look at Cas. 

“Well, there isn’t much yet to report. They seem fond of me. I’m using the minimal grace I have left to communicate with them until it runs out and needs to replenish. It sustains them somehow, more so than nectar, and I think allows them to trust me. I am wondering how it will change the honey quality when there is enough for me to harvest.”

“When will that be?”

“I may have some at the end of the summer, but it’s unlikely. If not, then next year will be a big batch. I’ll make sure to send you some.”

Sam laughs, pointing a finger at Cas, and says, “You better.”

“How’s work?” Sam asks, directed at Dean. 

Dean shrugs. “Fine, little slow right now but there’s a couple of contracts coming up in the next few weeks. I’ve become the local go-to guy for anything related to carpentry in town, so that’s neat. You probably won’t need to send us any more money from the Republicans soon.”

Sam nods. “Sure, but I might anyway, it’s fun. Do you enjoy it? You know, building stuff.”

“Yeah, I mean it’s different than what we did for our whole lives, but it’s nice. I can also play around a bit depending on the client. It’s not anything that gets you on the edge of your seat, but I think we all needed a break from that,” Dean explains. 

“It’s been nice being back in school,” Sam adds. “I hadn’t realized how much I missed it until I was there and then the normalcy came floating back and... it fit. I miss hunting - I don’t think I won’t, it’s a part of us, ya know?” Dean nods, and sees Cas match him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Time for a change though, we deserve it,” Sam says.

“Damn right,” Dean agrees. He holds up his bottle and waits until Sam and Cas clink their against his. 

“I keep forgetting to ask you whenever we call, are you seeing anyone?” Dean asks, nudging at Sam’s arm with his elbow. 

Sam’s mouth twitches and he blushes, just a little, enough that Dean notices and nudges him again. 

“Uh, sorta?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, her name’s Gina, she’s a law student too, older like me. We clicked from the beginning just from feeling out of place. We hold study groups at our apartments before tests.” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Sam and Sam kicks his shin. “Actual study groups, Dean.”

“Boring,” Dean sing-songs, and grins when Cas giggles at his joke.

“She’s nice, gorgeous, I don’t know if it will go anywhere once the semester is finished, but it’s been good so far.”

“I’m happy for you,” Dean says, and means it more than his verbal words can express. 

“What about you, Dean? Are you seeing anyone?” Sam asks, and there’s a knowing twinkle in his eye. Dean almost kicks him again. 

“Nope! You know me, a lone wolf, only here to love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

Sam scoffs. “You aren’t fooling anyone, Dean.”

“No? Damn.”

“What about you, Cas? You’re human now, is it something you’ve thought about?” Sam asks. Dean has a sudden hatred for Sam’s curiosity and need to tease him. 

Cas ponders Sam’s question for a moment, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “I’ve thought about it, but I wouldn’t really know where to begin.”

“You could always ask someone out?” Sam offers, trying to be helpful and Dean restrains the urge to shoot him a glare. 

“I could, maybe one day, but I’m content for now,” Cas replies. He smiles a little, all soft and Sam matches him, looking between him and Dean. 

“As long as we’re all happy, that’s what matters right?” Sam asks. 

Dean’s mouth twitches up into a smile. “Right.”

All that’s ever mattered to Dean is that his family is happy, and right now, with Sam and Cas alive and next to him on the porch of their new home, there isn’t much else that could make him happier. 

* * *

They spend Saturday morning -- after Dean’s plentiful breakfast of eggs, sausage and pancakes -- at the Farmer’s Market. Cas leads the way around, talking adamantly with Sam about the various vendors, which ones are his favorites and where he plans to sell his honey next year. Sam listens with rapt attention, pointing out things he finds interesting. Dean hangs back, lets them talk, and watches them both geek out over the beauty of nature and all that is local produce and crafts. 

Sam buys a few magnets and postcards with Walport on them, reminiscent of the town with seagulls in flight painted on them and gorgeous views of the beach at sunset. Dean hopes they’ll get to see it tonight.

“I know we’re going there tomorrow, but wanna go to the beach?” Dean asks.

“Uh yeah, of course!” Sam agrees.

They took Cas’ truck into town, and Cas backs it up to the edge of the sand. They sit on the bed of the truck for hours, going back and forth between casually drinking beer and hopping off into the sand to dip into the cool ocean water. No one brought swimsuits, but they just roll up their jeans to the knee and wade until the water hits the hem. 

Cas is out in the middle of the water, wandering around trying to see if he can summon a fish into his hand using what grace he has left. Dean watches him, feet propped up on the edge of the truck, drying off. 

Sam plops down next to him and bumps into his shoulder. “Hey, I’m really glad I’m here.”

Dean looks over at him, at how Sam’s floppy hair hangs down into his face. His dimples’ full force is out as he grins. “Me too.”

“Cas seems like he’s doing great. I was worried when he chose to be human, worried about how he’d take it the second time, but he’s thriving.”

Dean nods, and then sputters into laughter when Cas dives his hands into the water creating a big splash and stomps back towards the truck, a scowl on his face. No luck with the fish apparently. 

“He is. I’m glad he stayed,” Dean admits. 

“I don’t think there’s anywhere else he would have wanted to be, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t reply to that, doesn’t know the validity of Sam’s words. But he nods, a sliver of hope lodged in his throat that, yeah, maybe Cas will stay forever this time. 

“So,” Dean asks, changing the subject as Cas comes back, plopping down on the end of the truck bed. “What do you two want for dinner?”

“Cherry pie,” Cas deadpans, turning to look at Dean over his shoulder. Sam starts laughing and Dean squints at him. 

“Okay, other than dessert.”

“Kale?” Sam offers, completely unironically, mouth twitching in amusement. 

Dean glares at him. “No.”

“Cherry pie _ and _ kale?” Cas asks, oh-so-helpfully.

Dean rolls his eyes as Sam and Cas both start laughing. “I’m not letting either of you make decisions ever again. What about steak?”

He looks back and forth between Sam and Cas, whose eyes light up at the mention of steak. “And we have a winner. Cas, you ready to drive back?”

“I’m not sure I should,” Cas says, mouth tipping down into a slight frown. “I’m feeling sleepy.”

“I can drive, I promise I won’t fuck up your car.”

“I don’t mind,” Cas agrees, blinking at Dean and smiling softly. 

“Sam, you ready?”

“Yep.”

“Alright,” Dean says with a smile, and a pat to Cas’ shoulder. “Hop in.”

Three grown men crammed into the front of Cas’ little pickup is less than easy and Cas ends up squished in the middle between Dean and Sam. Dean is acutely aware of how tightly his thigh is pressed against Cas’. He’s unsure where to put his arm because he keeps bumping into Cas’ elbow when he turns the steering wheel. Cas moves his arm first, draping it over the back of the seat behind Dean’s shoulder, unconsciously brushing his fingertips on Dean’s shirt near the back of his neck. 

Dean talks idly to Sam about Waldport as they head out of town, in order to focus on something other than the feel of Cas’ fingertips burning through the fabric of his shirt. He falters momentarily when he feels Cas’ head lull over to the side and rest on his shoulder. He looks down, briefly, at the top of Cas’ sleeping head, and moves his gaze up to Sam, who, jerk he is, smirks at him. 

Dean flips him off, causing Sam to quietly giggle behind his hand so as to not wake Cas up.

He turns on the soft rock station, the volume up loud enough to be heard over the purr of the engine. Dean, despite his inhibitions, rests back against the warmth of Cas’ hand through his shirt, hums along to the music under his breath and drives.

* * *

A day later and they’re all crammed into Cas’ truck again, Cas driving this time. The truck bed is packed full with fireworks, a couple of thick blankets, a cooler of food and another cooler solely for beer and ice cold water. They won’t be back until late tonight, so Dean insisted that they bring everything necessary for the day, including enough beer to get them on the edge of tipsy but sober by the time they need to go home. There’s a certain anticipation to the festivities today, and Dean feels it thrumming under his skin. 

Sure, him and Sam have seen 4th of July festivals in the past, usually in passing while driving across the country, but Cas never has, at least not as a human on earth. It’s the first time they’ll really get to enjoy this, celebrating a holiday like normal civilians with no looming threat on the horizon. 

They slept in this morning, at least until eight -- that’s about as late as Dean ever sleeps, and they needed to head out in the early afternoon to get a good spot on the beach before the rest of the crowds and tourists did. Dean and Sam, the earliest risers of the three of them, packed coolers this morning. Sam helped him make ham and cheese sandwiches with all the fixings piled on top. It was quite a spread, topped off with two large bags of chips and leftover cherry pie from the night before. 

Despite rolling out of bed an hour before they needed to leave and essentially throwing on clothes -- at least that’s what Cas told Dean -- Cas still looks infuriatingly attractive. 

It’s hot today, the temperature tipping into the low nineties, and Dean expected to be tortured all day by a Cas in a band t-shirt and shorts. Instead, what he’s met with is a Cas in a friggin’ navy blue tank top and light denim shorts. Dean’s having more than a little trouble keeping his eyes to himself. Cas’ arms are _ right there _, and bumping into Dean’s as he drives. To add to Dean’s imminent death, Cas is wearing some type of new aftershave and it makes him smell all pine musky like a goddamn forest. Dean’s sweating underneath his thin t-shirt already from Cas’ proximity and the firm thigh pressed against his own. It’s a good thing they’re almost to the beach because he needs to get out of the truck as soon as possible. 

Sam, ever-knowing jerk he is, jumps out of the truck first, jogging to the back, and starts unloading the stuff, leaving Dean and Cas sitting next to each other closer than necessary what with Sam absent from the seat next to Dean. 

Despite his predicament, Dean doesn’t have the heart to move. 

Dean clears his throat, cutting through the silence, and points at an empty spot of sand halfway between the truck and the surf. There’s a few people already laying out blankets across the expanse of sandy beach, but it’s still relatively empty. 

“So uh, what do you think if we set up shop right there for the evening? Seems like a good spot.”

Cas nods and shifts in his seat as he reaches forward to take the keys out of the ignition, fingertips brushing the top of Dean’s knee. That’s it, Dean’s going to have a coronary. 

“I trust your judgement,” Cas answers. He looks over at Dean with a gentle smile and Dean is suddenly trapped in his gaze, as he always is. 

He must be staring for too long, as Cas nudges him in his side with his elbow. “Let’s go help Sam.”

After situating all the coolers, fireworks, and food up on the blankets, Cas heads down to the beach, bare feet creating a trail back to their spot and Dean plops down onto the blanket next to Sam. Sam is already sipping on a beer, a pair of sunglasses fixed on his face and leaning back on his palms. 

“It’s pretty here, huh?” Dean says. Dean reaches behind Sam and snatches a beer out for himself, and another for Cas when he comes back. 

“It is,” Sam agrees. He looks around at the ocean in front of them, the waves lapping at the tan shore, and the sun glinting off the water’s surface and making it sparkle into thousands of diamonds. “You really like it here,” Sam states. 

Dean nods. “I wasn’t sure I would at first. It seemed too idealistic, a small town and the familiarity that comes along with that, but they’ve welcomed me and Cas so easily. I’m still worried that one of these days the other shoe is gonna drop, ya know? Some bad shit is going to happen and this perfect thing I’ve built will fall apart.”

“I feel that too. I keep thinking I’ll wake up one morning at Stanford and it will be a motel instead, or I’ll be in the middle of the hunt and everything we’ve worked for is gone. But you know, after everything we’ve done, we deserve something good, Cas too.”

Dean looks out to where he can see Cas’ shadow in the sun and smiles. “Yeah, we do.”

The afternoon comes and goes, and they all take turns dipping into the cooler water as respite from the constant heat. More people start to fill up the beach, until the sound of crashing waves is intermixed with chattering from all around them. Sunset comes soon enough, and Dean finds himself watching the sky light up into a myriad of orange and peach clouds, sitting between the two people he loves the most. Cas continues to sit closer than necessary and Dean tries not to read into it. He’s been doing this more lately, but whether it’s out of necessity for human contact or because he’s more comfortable now than he’s ever been Dean isn’t sure. Cas rests back on his hands right now, sunglasses sitting next to him on the blanket. The glow of the sun reflects in the blue of his eyes and makes his tanned skin shine. Dean finds himself transfixed in the relaxed set of his shoulders and the content smile on his face rather than on the beauty expanding across the sky in front of him. 

He’s a goddamn mess. 

As the sun drops down, the temperature dips too,. It’s still warm, it is summer after all, but it’s cool enough for the three of them to slip on flannels over their shirts. This means, fortunately for Dean’s libido, Cas’ arms are covered up for the remainder of the evening. However, said flannel Cas is wearing is one of Dean’s old ones, dark blue and faded from years of usage. The sight of Cas looking cozy in it, while he sips on a beer, makes a warm fuzzy feeling bloom in Dean’s chest. 

A few minutes after sunset, Sam nudges Dean’s arm with his and asks, “So fireworks?”

Dean looks over and finds Sam with that puppy dog look in his eyes, ecstatic for the show already even before the fireworks. Dean chuckles, “Patience, Sammy, we’ve gotta wait until nine thirty.”

Sam checks his watch and sighs, “Fifteen minutes.”

Dean nods towards the pile of fireworks sitting next to the cooler. “You can get ‘em ready though, make sure the wicks are straight. Have a lighter?”

Sam scoffs. “What, you think I don’t carry one on me anymore?”

“Well, _ do _ you?”

He digs around in his pocket and pulls out a lighter, brandishing it in front of Dean. “Guess it’s a force of habit, you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, patting his pocket where his own lighter rests for safe keeping, “I know.”

Sam gets up, shuffling around in the darkness, using a flashlight to guide his way as he arranges the fireworks a dozen or so feet in front of them. 

“I’ve never lit one off myself but fireworks explode, so how is this safe?” Cas asks, deep voice colored with confusion.

“Well, I guess technically it’s not, but as long as you don’t hold one towards your face, usually no one gets hurt.”

“Hmm, can I try?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, smiling over at Cas. “I’ll help you.”

The first sizzles of fireworks come from near the water’s edge, a few dozen kids breaking out the sparklers, twirling around in the surf, the small sticks held tight in their hands. It creates a kaleidoscope of bright light, sends it dancing across the surface of the water, and their excited giggles drift back to where Dean, Sam, and Cas, and the rest of Waldport sit on the sand.

“Alright Sammy, think that’s your cue. Light ‘em up.”

Sam scrambles to his feet, lighter held like a weapon in his hand, and grabs one of the cylinders. He holds it tight in his hand, facing it upwards and out away from his face as he lights the wick. 

“Happy Fourth!” Sam yells, right as the firework bursts out from his hand straight up into the air. It explodes a hundred feet above them into a weeping willow of golden stars cascading down from the sky.

Next to Dean, Cas gasps in surprise. Dean grins, looking back and forth between Sam’s ecstatic face and Cas’ open-mouthed stare up at the sky above them.

“It looks like a thousand meteors falling to earth, like when the dinosaurs were wiped out, but prettier and less destructive,” Cas states. 

It’s definitely the strangest analogy Dean’s heard for fireworks, but that’s just like Cas to come up with something so obscure yet perfect. 

Sam shoots off another with a loud whoop and it bursts into the sky, silver this time, flickering and cracking above them before fading out and into smoke. Around them, the entire sky lights up as the rest of the town starts lighting their fireworks up. It creates a rainbow reflection on the ocean, glistening in the dark. Dean stands to his feet and reaches over, tapping on Cas’ shoulder. 

“Wanna try?”

Cas eyes light up, not only from the explosions around them, and he nods. 

Dean steps up next to Sam, grabbing a roman candle for himself, and then hands one to Cas. 

“Watch,” Dean instructs. He adjusts his grip on the firework, aiming it the correct angle into the air, and flicks open his lighter. The flame flickers to life and he holds it right at the edge of the wick. It hisses on contact and spreads rapidly all the way to the base of the candle; there’s a slight pause and then it bursts out the top, rushing at lightning speed towards the sky. 

“Awesome,” Cas states. Dean gazes at him, finds him staring up into the sky at the myriad of explosions around them with wide-eyed wonder. 

Cas tries, lighter slipping between his fingers as Dean hands it to him, and mostly succeeds, even though his hand wobbles a little right as the candle bursts. 

They trade off, taking turns setting the fireworks off until they’re all done and left to watch the sky around them as it continues to explode in color. They use the sparklers last, watching them dance and sizzle until they go out just as quickly as they started. 

“Thank you,” Sam says, later, as everything starts to die down. “I never knew how much I wanted this until today. It’s a tradition we missed.” He’s contemplative, staring up at the sky, but Dean can see unshed tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes. They never had this, not until now, and it means more to Sam than he can say. Dean gets it. 

“You know that summer you bought that whole box of fireworks and we lit that field on fire? That was awesome, you made this day good. I always remembered that even in the years following, made me feel normal for once, but even then it felt like something was missing.”

“What was that?” Dean asks. 

“Our whole family together.” Sam drops his gaze and looks over with a soft smile to Dean and Cas. “And now, we’ve lost so many people, but the three of us made it out and we’re here and for the first time, at least to me, this day feels right.”

Dean claps one hand on Sam’s shoulder and one on Cas’ dragging them both into him for a side-hug. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It does.”

* * *

Hours later, after the car is packed up and they’ve sobered up and made the short trek back home to the house, Sam elects to head to bed right away. He’s yawning big bear yawns from the moment he walks in the front door. Dean shoos him upstairs, reminding him to be up by nine for breakfast. Tomorrow is Sam’s last day here for a while, and Dean wants to make the most of it. Dean, despite the events of the day, is still wide awake. There’s a sort of jittery energy bubbling in his veins that’s got him wired. He needs another drink. He grabs a bottle of Jack and heads out to the porch, tugging his flannel tighter around him against the night chill, and sits down on the front step. 

He’s two glasses in when Cas plops down beside him, stealing the bottle out of his hand and taking a long gulp. Dean squints at him, too tipsy to retort, and too obsessed with the way Cas’ mouth look around the mouth of the bottle to have any semblance of coherent thought. 

“Can I join you?” Cas asks. 

Dean moves his arms and half-filled tumbler glass in a “be my guest” motion and grins. 

“You have fun tonight?” Dean asks. 

Dean forgoes the glass once it’s empty, enjoys the methodical trading back and forth of the bottle between his mouth and Cas’. 

Cas takes another sip, swallows thickly, and nods. “It was beautiful. I felt as though I were in a warzone for much of the time, but the sense of panic was not present and I was surrounded by great company.”

“Tends to be like that. Glad you enjoyed yourself,” Dean answers. He hiccups, looks at Cas and looks some more. He focuses on the curve of his eyelashes in the glow of the porch light, the slant of his nose, and how his fingers rest on the top of his thigh, delicate yet strong. Dean drags his eyes back up and finds Cas looking at him. Cas blushes, almost as if caught, and darts his gaze away, toying with the hem of his shorts. Interesting. 

“Sam’s leaving after tomorrow, gonna miss him,” Dean says, grabbing the bottle back, and thanks to his waning inhibitions, takes another drink.

“Me too,” Cas agrees. 

“We’re gonna have to create some new traditions for the house, you know,” Dean adds, thinking about all the decorating he can do now that he actually has a house to work with. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas: he can’t wait. 

“I’m not sure how much help I’ll be,” Cas says with a chuckle. 

“Don’t worry,” Dean says, patting Cas’ thigh. “I’ll teach you.”

Somehow Cas has gotten closer and said thigh is pressed against his. Dean finds he doesn’t know what else to say, but he instinctively leans into Cas’ warmth. Cas takes another drag off the bottle and Dean takes the liberty of watching him, wondering what his mouth tastes like, if his lips feel as soft as they look. 

It’s a companionable silence, despite the roaring heartbeat in Dean’s chest, which only increases when Cas’ arm lazily slips around his shoulders. Dean freezes, but instantly relaxes when he feels Cas’ head bump into his. Cas giggles as Dean hands him back the bottle. They’re cuddling; this is essentially cuddling. 

They sit there for awhile, Cas’ arm resting over Dean’s back, fingertips stroking the curve of his shoulder, trading drinks in companionable silence. Dean is not going to move, not unless Cas tells him to. He could probably fall asleep here, which he would severely regret in the morning. Dean, in his drunken haze, nuzzles against the side of Cas’ shoulder, sniffing in the scent of him, allowing himself to be completely wrapped up in him, and drifts. 

Today, his whole family together, was the start of a new normalcy when it comes to Winchester holidays. Sam will be gone in a few days and Dean will miss him in the form of a constant lingering ache deep inside his chest. But Sam has his own life to live now, as do Dean and Cas. And while separation is hard and something Dean isn’t used to, he knows that when it counts, they’re there for each other. They always come back together when they need each other, and that’s what family is about.


	6. Chapter 6

A month passes and Dean and Cas fall into a comfortable sort of stasis. Cas works, Monday through Friday about thirty hours a week at Gas N’ Sip, and the rest of the time he tends to his bees, using his grace to nourish them and their honey. Dean keeps a similar schedule, finding carpentry jobs around the town, building everything from rocking chairs and dining tables to one really elaborate playground set in the Gruber’s backyard. It’s a job and it pays well, at least around here; the competition’s scarce and building things is something Dean is extremely good at. The weekends are spent usually at home, together. On Saturday mornings Cas has to, without fail every week, go to the farmer’s market, mostly for his own personal joy. But also to check out the clientele as he starts to figure out the best way to market his soon-to-be honey products. Occasionally they will spend an afternoon on the beach, rain or shine, or take the Impala out on Highway 101, let her stretch her legs again and do some coast driving. Dean is content for the first time in his life. 

Mid-August brings with it hotter temperatures, fewer clouds, and many of Waldport’s summer festivals. During the summer it’s a tourist town, people from all over flocking to the coast to beat the heat and soak up the small town charm of this quaint city. Every weekend there is some type of event going on downtown, meant to draw in crowds and also allow for intercommunity bonding. Dean and Cas don’t plan to go to all of them, but they enjoy seeing their neighbors, many of them the people who helped get them settled when they first moved to Waldport a little over a year ago. Tonight’s event is Waldport’s Annual Birthday Bash, the anniversary of the little town’s creation. Cas convinces Dean to go early, says he wants to see what all the fuss is about and fully participate in all the festivities.

This time, as a human, Cas has taken the concept of “firsts,” and ran with it. Dean knows that there was a lot he missed out on last time, because everything was so rushed and he felt so lost. Part of this was due to Dean, and he feels responsible, wants to make it up to him and make his new branch into human life as perfect as possible. He started with the house, and went from there. If only Dean could give Cas the kind of love he wants to. 

They arrive at the festival around six. Dean parks the Impala in the grassy open space next to the beach. There’s a neon aqua balloon arching over one of the walkways onto the shore with a large sign underneath brandishing, “WALDPORT’S 112TH ANNIVERSARY!” 

Behind them is the main part of town, cute shop fronts all decorated with tiny blue banners in honor of the day. There’s hundreds of people milling about, most headed towards the beach where there’s a barbecue going. 

Dean looks over at Cas and watches him take it all in. They’ve never seen the city this packed full of people; most are tourists, but it’s a lot. Cas dressed up tonight, partially with Dean’s help. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a gently used one they found at Goodwill last week. It fits him snug over the navy blue henley he’s got on underneath. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that unfortunately for Dean cling to his thighs and his ass perfectly. 

It’s fine. Dean is  _ totally  _ fine and not at all distracted.

He realizes he’s been caught staring when Cas quirks a curious smile at him and asks, “Ready?”

“Hell yeah, I want a hot dog,” Dean replies with a grin as he gets out of the car. 

Dean gets Cas a hot dog too, as Cas gets stopped halfway over to the barbecue by Carol Samuels, who is asking after their new property, what Cas’ plans are for the bees, and when he’ll be able to sell at the market. She’s a member of the city council, a shrewd older lady with a tendency for nosiness, but she’s one of the most caring people Dean’s ever met. Dean is close enough to eavesdrop on their conversation, despite the crackling of the grill. 

“Dean showed me the pictures of the house the other day when I ran into him at the post office, it truly looks grand, Cas. You both will have to have some sort of house warming party for all of your friends to come and check it out.”

“Well,” Cas starts, stops and sputters. Dean peeks his head over his shoulder and finds Cas looking at him desperately for any sort of answer. He gives him a curt shake of his head. Parties are fine and Dean had certainly thought they seemed customary at first. However, the more he thought about it the more protective he got. He’s never had much just for himself over his life, and this house of theirs meant a lot to him, a lot more than he ever intended when he started out with his fanatical idea of single-handedly building it. If that made him selfish? Screw it. He wanted it just for them and their loved ones. 

“Probably not. There’s still some things left to be done. I’ll let you know if we change our mind.”

Dean nods to himself at the diplomacy of Cas’ answer and how he easily transitions into asking Carol about her flower shop and the state of her dahlias. 

“One hot dog,” Dean interjects, throwing on his best radio announcer voice and brandishing the hot dog in front of Cas like it’s some sort of prize. 

Cas takes it from him, sniffs it, and squints down at the ketchup and mustard Dean oh-so-carefully squiggled over the top. “I wanted the green stuff on it too.”

“Relish?” Dean huffs in disgust when Cas nods. “Why?”

“Because I want to try it.”

Dean sighs and rolls his eyes obnoxiously in faux annoyance that gets Carol laughing, “Fine, be right back, Mr. Picky.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas replies, handing the unsatisfactory hot dog back to Dean with a soft smile. 

Dean couldn’t say no to that face even if he wanted to. He’s friggin’ whipped. 

“Are you two staying for the fireworks?” Carol asks.

“There are fireworks?” Cas replies.

“Every year! The council helps raise money for it at the local grocery store. This year we did fairly well, it should be quite the show.”

“I’m excited to see it.”

Dean slides back in, handing Cas his now hopefully adequate hot dog. He takes a huge bite of his own and nods at Carol. 

“Well, I should let you two enjoy your dinner. Come find me and Jim later if you like, we’ll have a spot right up by the water. We can save you a place.”

“That would be nice, Carol, thank you,” Cas says, answering for them both since Dean’s mouth is currently occupied with chewing. 

“See you then!” Carol replies, flouncing away and waving a cutesy little wave as she goes. 

“What’s the verdict?” Dean asks, while Cas methodically chews his first bite. Dean can practically see the gears cranking around in his head as he analyzes the tastes and flavors. He’s never seen anyone eat like Cas does, it’s fucking weird but infinitely fascinating, and also adorable if he’s being honest. 

“I feel like it might taste better on a hamburger,” Cas states. He chews thoughtfully and Dean watches him, fascinated with the dab of ketchup at the corner of his mouth. 

“Yeah? I’ve never been a big fan, but Sam loves the stuff.”

“Of course he does,” Cas replies with a chuckle. 

“Want a beer? There’s gotta be someone around here with alcohol.”

“Please.”

Dean leads Cas around the little festival area. There are a couple dozen booths circled around in the sand, far enough away from the water to be in any danger of getting wet. Many of the booths are the same ones that are at the farmer’s market every weekend, but there are a few newcomers, including a leather shop and a pet store. Much to Dean’s excitement, he spots a group of people clustered around a cooler. One of them he knows very well, Fred Anderson, the owner of the Waldport Inn where Dean and Cas stayed for the past year. Fred spots them and gives them a friendly wave, gesturing them both over towards the huddled group. 

“Dean! Cas! Good to see you! Fancy a beer?” Fred asks. He’s a charming older man, the classic silver fox with the looks to match and soft baby blue eyes. 

“That’s exactly what we were searching for!” Dean says. He claps Fred on the back, who scoffs and pulls him into a hug. He hugs Cas too, who, still hasn’t gotten the hang of stranger hugs and continues to look exceedingly awkward, even if his face doesn’t match his tense posture. The only person he seems to be okay hugging is Dean. Dean tries not to think too hard about that. After all, he was fine with Sam too.

“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” Fred replies, grinning widely. He reaches into the cooler, ice crunching around his hands, and retrieves two ice cold beers. 

“Thanks,” Dean says, when Fred hands him his. He digs his keys out of his pocket and pops off the cap, does the same for Cas’, and takes a big long sip. 

“How’s everything at the house?” Fred asks. 

This is the fourth time since they’ve gotten here someone has asked them about the house. Dean is proud of it and always more than happy to talk about it, especially to Fred, who had to listen to him complain about architecture whenever Cas was at work. 

“Great. Finally getting settled, I finished up Cas’ bee hives a couple weeks ago.”

“It will take awhile, but I am hoping to sell honey at the farmer’s market. I procured a hive about a month ago and they’re doing great so far,” Cas chimes in.

“Bees, huh. Well best of luck to you, boys. I’m glad you’re getting back on your feet.” Fred grins as he responds to them.

“Thanks, Fred. It’s good to see you.”

“You too, both of you,” Fred says. He tips his hat at them as they wander away and back down through the booth section of the festival sipping at their beers. 

Eventually Dean tires of neighborly small talk, not used to having so much social interaction required of him. He grabs Cas’ arm when they're standing in between booths, and pulls him aside, out of the way of traffic. 

“Hey, is it okay if we head out or go to a bar or something? This is fun, I’m just feeling talked out.” 

“We can get a drink somewhere?” Cas suggests. 

“Uptown?”

“Why not?”

Uptown is packed tonight. With the festival still going on outside, the over twenty-one crowd of Walport is pouring into the local bars for a few more hours of good times before passing out for the rest of the night. Dean enters first, feeling a tight tug on the sleeve of his jacket where Cas clings and keeps hold of him so he doesn’t lose Dean in the crowd. Dean weaves through the crowd, finding a small empty corner near the bar 

Dean spots her first, Cas too preoccupied with looking at the drink list to notice anyone looking at them. She’s gorgeous, that Dean notices right away, long dirty-blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders, wearing a loose fitting tank top over skinny jeans. Her gaze isn’t fixed on him, but on oblivious Cas, who is squinting down at the differing brands of whiskey on the menu. Dean will admit that Cas does look good right now, especially with how the dark lit bar lighting plays across his features. He doesn’t blame her one bit. She catches his eyes with hers and smiles, ducking her head, her blush visible on her cheeks even from across the room. 

Dean of five years ago would beeline across the bar to her. The Dean of now is not exactly uninterested, in fact he’s  _ definitely _ interested, but it’s not him she’s looking at. 

Dean nudges Cas in the side with his elbow.

“Ow. What?” Cas asks, scowling at Dean. 

“You’ve got an admirer.” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Cas whose scowl contorts into a crinkled look of confusion. 

“Who?”

Dean jerks his head in the direction of the woman, who is now smiling hopefully at Cas. She shoots him a wink, and Cas quite literally gapes at her. It’s all Dean can do to not dissolve into laughter at Cas’ stunned face.

“I don’t understand.” Cas looks back at Dean, still confused.

“I think it’s the jacket,” Dean teases, shooting Cas a playful wink of his own.

“That’s Sadie, she has a booth at the market,” Cas explains. “She sells her own handmade scarves and other knitted items. I see her every week and she usually strikes up some sort of conversation with me, but I didn’t think...” Cas’ voice trails off, the expression on his face very perplexed. 

Dean watches Cas look back over at Sadie, who is toying with the straw in her drink, swirling it around in a playful flirty way. “What do I do?”

“Well, you don’t have to  _ do _ anything, but clearly she likes you, so if you want... go talk to her.”

It’s the right thing to say, what he should say, but it’s absolutely the opposite of what Dean wants. 

Cas’ mouth quirks up into the hint of a smile, not his soft special one that’s reserved for Dean, a different one that’s meant to be flirty but on him looks more dorky than anything. Sadie takes it like the bait it is and grins back, brushes a long strand of her hair behind her ear.

“Do you like her?” Dean asks. He has to know. 

Cas contemplates this, holding eye contact with Sadie for an excruciatingly long amount of time. “I honestly hadn’t considered her before, but she is beautiful.”

Aw, fuck. Dean feels a knot tighten inside his stomach. He puts on his faux mask of bravado and soldiers on. Dean leans in and nudges Cas’ side. “Go talk to her, see what happens.”

Cas breaks eye contact with Sadie to look over at Dean. His eyes search Dean’s briefly, before replying, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” Dean says, waving him off. “Ya know I’m actually getting tired of all this socializing, probably should just head home.”

“Alright,” Cas says, hesitant. His gaze drifts back to Sadie and Dean finds a latent heat there that he wishes was directed at him. 

“Text me if you’re not coming back tonight okay? Oh, and...” Dean digs through his pockets, pulling out a condom and stuffs it into Cas’ hand. “Use protection.”

Cas stuffs it into his jacket pocket and nods at Dean. “Thank you.”

Dean picks up his beer and takes a swig. He watches Cas adjust the collar of his jacket as if Sadie can’t see him right now, and take a steeled breath before flashing Dean a half-nervous half-confident smile. Dean gives him a very obnoxious and over-the-top thumbs up, before hiding his embarrassment behind his perspiring glass of beer. 

Cas moves through the crowd over to Sadie, and Dean watches with rapt attention. Sure, he’ll leave eventually, but he’s never actually  _ seen _ Cas flirt since, well, ten years ago, and that was a disaster. He’s interested to know if humanity has allowed Cas to improve in that aspect of social cues. 

Cas pauses in front of the table, across from her. They chat a bit before he’s slipping an easy arm around her waist to pull her into a gentle hug. It’s brief, but lingers slightly longer than his hugs with Dean do. That’s purposeful. Dean also notices that as they get back to chatting, Cas keeps close, stays within her bubble, within touching distance and maintains eye contact as she talks.

He’s definitely better. 

Dean can’t hear exactly what they are talking about, probably some details about the farmer’s market or knitting, or the intricacies of starting a business. Or maybe, Cas is expressing how he wants to fuck her. Who the fuck knows? Dean sure doesn’t. 

He takes another swig of his beer, downing the rest. 

They’re still talking by the time the bartender comes around and takes his empty beer glass. This has got to be the slowest hook up he’s ever seen, but this is Cas. Sadie is clearly, very obviously into him. She keeps laughing at seemingly every other word he says; Dean’s sure what Cas is saying is actually funny or at least cute, because that’s just Cas, but it’s not  _ that  _ funny. She’s got a hand on his forearm now, staking her claim. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. 

Dean doesn’t realize he’s white-knuckling the edge of the table from how hard he’s gripping it until he sees Cas lean down and whisper something in her ear. The table creaks slightly under his grasp and Dean outwardly blushes, relaxing a tad and hating himself just a little bit for how much this is affecting him. 

Cas is allowed to have sex. Cas is human and likes sex. It’s fine. 

Sadie nods in response to whatever Cas asked, a flirtatious smile playing on her lips. Dean watches, with bated breath, as Cas reaches out and skims the pad of his thumb along the line of her jaw. Dean sees the kiss coming and isn’t prepared for when it happens, it knocks the air out of his lungs completely. It’s not all that outlandish of a kiss, no desperate hands or bodies being pushed up against walls. It’s chaste, curious and unpracticed, and so fucking gentle. 

Dean leaves.

He knows he’s being a baby, but clearly Cas knows what he’s doing and Dean is no longer needed there. 

He’s only had one beer, and seeing Cas kiss Sadie had a drastic sobering effect on his senses. He gets into the Impala, the comforting smell of her leather around him, and breathes in deep, before bringing her to life and squealing out of the parking lot. 

Dean gets home and promptly heads up stairs to his room, changing into soft grey sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt because it’s hot and he’s home alone anyway. He pours himself a drink, whiskey, and fills it a little bit more full than he probably should. Fuck it. He’s jittery, pacing across his floor, walkman tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants, headphones blasting Zeppelin in his ears. 

He moves to his window, staring out at the crescent moon, stark against the dark sky, and raps his fingers along the sill to the beat of “Black Dog.” The music soothes him, brings his mood down from the annoyance of earlier. It’s not that he doesn’t think Cas will be okay, but he can’t help but remember that the last time Cas had sex, he kinda got murdered afterward. Needless to say, aside from the jealousy biting sharp in his gut, he’s more worried than anything else. 

Dean ends up settled onto his bed, lying on his back, letting the power of his memory foam mattress embrace him. He’s real into Zeppelin’s self-titled when there’s a break between songs. In the lapse of noise he hears a feminine giggle coming from somewhere in the house, followed by Cas’ deep voice. 

They came back here? What the hell?

Dean is on his feet in seconds, ripping off his headphones and moving to stand next to the closed door, ear pressed up against the wood. He can’t hear distinctive words, just the muddled sounds of their voices as they come towards the stairs and start to head up. 

There’s a quiet thump against the wall, and the wet sounds of kissing. Dean’s heart takes root in his throat, but he’s continues listening.

“Cas,” Sadies whines, voice pitched up an octave. Her arousal is evident in the timbre of her voice and idly Dean wonders what the drive here was like. Did Cas slip his hand down her pants and rub circles over her clit while she drives? He’d get her off like that, make her come all over his fingers. Dean can picture Cas taking his hand back, licking off her slickness while Sadie whimpers from the driver’s seat, desperate to get to the house so she can get Cas inside her. 

Dean startles back when there’s a thump right next to the wall beside his ear, and Sadie gasps loudly, “Fuck me, please.”

Cas chuckles, ”Not yet.” There’s the sound of a sloppy kiss. “Patience.”

A rustling of fabric follows, and Cas grunts, low in his throat. Dean feels his cock thicken underneath his sweatpants. He’s so fucked.

“Bed, now,” he hears Cas growl.

It almost brings Dean to his knees. He scrambles onto his bed instead, as close to the wall next to Cas’ room as he can. 

The door closes with a click, and he hears nothing at first except for a series of bumps against the door and what he assumes is the wall. The springs of Cas’ bed squeak a few times as they most likely climb on top, slowly stripping each other of their clothes. He can’t see, wishes he could, but he can use his imagination. 

There’s a brief pause of quiet, not sounds but the occasional squeak of the bed from the movements of their bodies. 

Then, Sadie starts moaning. 

She sounds good, genuine, not pornstar fake.. Which Dean is simultaneously grateful for and also hates. She’s enjoying herself and whatever Cas is doing to her. 

Dean bets he’s eating her out, nice and slow, taking his time. He’ll get her thighs shaking, and make her come in his mouth before he fucks her.

He can’t hear Cas at all, unfortunately, his mouth occupied, but Sadie starts whining, growing louder by the moment, murmuring Cas’ name.

Dean’s entire body is in another dimension, hyper-focused on what’s going on in the room next to him. He’s been this turned on before, but it’s been a while. He really shouldn’t; it wouldn’t be right to Cas.

“Fucking shit,” Sadie moans, right as she comes, a series of high-pitched whines following as she comes down. Cas is probably sucking on her clit until she feels overly sensitive, urging her on.

_ Aw, fuck it.  _

Dean slips a hand underneath his waistband, trails his finger along the line of his hip bone, hesitating briefly as the sounds next door taper off temporarily. 

“Let me ride you,” Sadie says, breathless and needy. 

There’s shuffling and Cas’ eager, breathy, “Yeah, just like that.”

Dean swallows back a groan, biting down on his bottom lip, hard, to keep it at bay. He wraps his hand around his cock and strokes up from the base. Dragging his palm up, he thumbs at his slit, gathering the pre-cum there and slicking himself up. He fists his cock lazily, ears trained intently on the sounds next door. 

Sadie is hot, appearance wise, and she’s incredibly vocal during sex. He’s not sure if it’s for Cas’ benefit or if she’s that into him, not that Dean blames her. Cas has been quieter, unfortunately, and if Dean hears anything it’s quiet groans or stutter gasps when Sadie shifts against him. He’s been more occupied with her pleasure, and that is definitely something Dean can appreciate. 

She’s probably in his lap, working her hips as she rides his cock. Dean can picture Cas’ large hands splayed across her ass, helping her fuck him, his mouth on her nipple sucking it to hardness. 

Dean hears Cas now, the rough gravel of his voice echoing in low moans through the walls. It sparks something in him, and he gets dizzy from the rush, the sound of Cas receiving pleasure. It’s intoxicating and he would give anything to be the one making Cas sound like that.

“Fuck.” Cas groans out. He’s panting, intermixed with choked whimpers. Dean wishes he could see him, be in that room and touch him, drag those noises out of Cas himself. Get a hand in his hair, tug on it while he rides Cas, fucking it up, while their bodies slide easily together. 

Dean works his hand faster, gliding his thumb over the slit. He swallows down the noises threatening to rise from his throat and clenches the sheets with his free hand.

Sadie comes first with a shout, her third of the evening, and the bed squeaks increase as she works herself on him even as she comes down, trying to bring Cas to orgasm. 

Dean comes, right into his fist. He covers his mouth with his other hand to keep from making any noise, restraining himself to deep breaths as he comes down. He strains to listen to what’s going on next to him, but their voices have quieted to indiscernible whispers. His breathing evens out, and he carefully slides out of his sweatpants, cleaning himself off since they’re already partially ruined anyway. He feels strangely exposed, and drags the covers up to his chin, listening to the faint sound of voices from next door. 

The bed feels empty, even though his body is sated post-orgasm. Dean is filled with a sense of loneliness he hasn’t truly felt since he and Cas moved out here. He hates it. Dean curls in on himself and adjusts his head on his pillow, willing sleep to come. 


	7. Chapter 7

Dean wakes at sunrise, to Arnold the rooster's call as he does every morning. He takes a quick shower and pads downstairs. It’s still early. He doesn’t bother turning on any lights, just lets the natural glow from the brightness of the sun illuminate the kitchen. It’s feeling like scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast sort of morning. His stomach is grumbling in earnest, sloshing around with remnants of alcohol, needy for carbs. One quick look out the window confirms his suspicion that Sadie spent the night. He doesn’t quite know what to think of that.

Knowing Cas, he would feel guilty about the whole encounter unless she did spend the night. 

Dean gets to work prepping breakfast. He gets a pot of coffee on, for himself but also Cas, whose grumpiness in the morning pre-coffee rivals Dean’s. Neither him or Sadie is up yet, which is a tad disconcerting. He puts on Zeppelin while he works, self-titled, and hums along cheerily while he cooks. 

Eggs are sizzling on the stove when hears a pair of feet headed down the stairs, coming towards him. Dean turns towards the noise once the feet stop behind him. It’s Sadie. She’s dressed, mostly. Her hair is mussed, tied-up into a loose bun on the top of her head, some strands sticking off to the sides. She blushes when she sees him, freezing, her shoes held tight in her fists. 

“Hi, Dean.”

Dean gives her a little wave and a polite smile. “Morning. Breakfast?”

“Uh,” Sadie stutters, steals a look behind her and quickly shakes her head. “Nah, thanks though. I have to head back into town and get to work.”

Dean nods, turning back to the stove to stir the eggs. “Cas know you’re leaving?”

“I told him,” Sadie answers. “Thanks for letting me crash, guess I’ll be heading out.”

“No problem,” Dean answers. “See ya around, Sadie.”

He turns back around and gives her a half-smile and a half-hearted attempt at a wave. Sadie waves back, embarrassed, pink all the way to the tips of her ears. 

“You too, Dean.”

She half-jogs out of the room, and the door slams shut behind her as she leaves. He hears her car engine rev, and the accompanying gravel crunching under her wheels as she heads out to the freeway. 

The house feels right again. 

Dean dishes up two plates of steaming eggs and bacon. He plates toast for them both, drizzles a generous portion of honey onto Cas’ toast, and smothers his own with strawberry jelly. He sticks Cas’ food in the oven on low to keep it warm, and sits down to enjoy his own breakfast. 

There’s a quaint sort of solitude about their new home in the mornings that Dean has never had until now. He finds an immense sense of joy and relaxation from sitting near the open patio door in the morning, listening to the birds chirp awake and the bubbling of the creek. 

Cas comes downstairs ten minutes later. Dean looks up and finds him paused in the doorway of the kitchen, shirtless and yawning wide. His hair is sticking up in all directions atop his head, and he blinks slowly at Dean as he makes his way over to the coffee pot. 

“Morning,” Cas gruffs out. 

“Hey buddy, how’d your night go?” Dean asks, intently focused on the curve of Cas’ back down to the swell of his ass. 

There’s the sound of a spoon clinking against Cas’ coffee cup. “Fun.”

Cas pads over and plops himself down in front of Dean, palms wrapped around the coffee mug like he’s holding on for dear life. He stretches his legs out underneath the table and rests his bare feet against the bottom of Dean’s calves. 

“That’s it? Fun?”

Cas shrugs, taking a long sip of his coffee and sighs. “Yes. Isn’t sex always fun?”

“In my experience, yeah. You gonna see her again?” Dean asks. He focuses on his food instead of looking up at Cas. 

Cas doesn’t answer right away. He sips noisily at his coffee before answering, “I don’t think so.”

“No?” Dean asks, too curious now not to know. He chances a look up and meets Cas’ tired eyes. 

“Sadie is... vibrant. I do enjoy talking with her, especially whenever I visit the market and last night was enjoyable. However, I can’t picture myself having any further of a relationship than what happened last night.”

“Huh.” At least Dean’s not in any danger of losing him any time soon.

“Did you make eggs?” Cas asks, nodding down at Dean’s half-empty plate of food. 

“Sure did, there’s a plate for you in the oven.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Dean,” Cas replies. Despite his sleep-grumpy state, Cas offers him a warm, soft smile that has Dean’s heart helplessly flipping somersaults in his chest. He’s different this morning, and it has nothing to do with last night's sexual escapades. There’s an easiness Dean notices in the set of his shoulders as he gets up to go get the food that Dean hopes is permanent. Cas plops back down across from him, beginning to scarf down his food, clearly hungry from his night of activities. 

It will never not be weird to see Cas eating; Dean’s still getting used to it. 

Many of their mornings start out similarly to this, sitting across from each other sipping at coffee, hoping the caffeine works its magic and brings them to life, while chomping down on whatever Dean decided to cook for breakfast. They eat every meal but lunch together, both away at their respective jobs during that time. Dean cooks every meal when he can. Sometimes they get takeout from a restaurant in town. When Dean’s feeling really homesick for hunting and the road, they get burgers. Otherwise, Dean’s taken to domesticity like velcro. 

It suits him. He fits into this comfortable life so easily after living for so long in constant stress. It’s like a permanent vacation. They’re still wary of monsters. The angels and demons may have been locked up in their homes, but the monsters are still out there, just someone else’s problem now. Habitually, Dean salts all the entrances every night before bed. He doesn’t have to, as Cas helped him figure out how to put anti-monster warding into the walls and foundation of the house. He’s too paranoid not to, but in a way it's cathartic, knowing that he has this safety net around him and Cas. 

“Any plans for the rest of the day?” Dean asks. He finishes the rest of his coffee and heads over to the sink with his plates. 

“I figured I’d read for a while, check on the bees, help you bake a pie later if you’d like. You mentioned wanting to teach me now that we have a proper kitchen.”

Dean pauses, hands covered in suds. Cas remembered. “Yeah, I’d like that, but only if you want to.”

He steals a glance over his shoulder at Cas and finds him smiling sheepishly. “I think it will be fun, though I will be terrible at it.”

“I know,” Dean replies, and chuckles when Cas immediately glares at him. “But as long as it tastes okay, that’s what matters.”

Cas nods, cheeks tinted a tinge of pink. “This afternoon then? After I fix everything with the bees?”

Dean nods, smiling warmly at Cas as he dries his hands on the dish towel, “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

Cas showers as he does every morning, except this morning Dean can’t get the thought of him jerking off out of his head. It’s infuriating. Dean deep cleans the kitchen instead. 

Once he’s certain Cas isn’t going to show up right outside his door in only a towel, Dean heads back upstairs. 

Cas’ door creaks open and clicks shut. Dean turns and sees him, all decked out in his beekeeper outfit. He looks adorable and dorky at the same time, especially right now with how his hat is lopsided on the top of his head. 

“Here, it’s just a little...” Dean reaches up and tweaks the hat back into place. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says gratefully, adjusting the hat and the suit around his body. 

“No problem, don’t get stung.”

Cas shoots him a highly offended look. “They would never. My bees love me.”

“Whatever you say, bud.”

Dean watches him tend to the bees from inside the kitchen. There’s a gentleness with how Cas treats them, careful in all of his movements and slow, making sure not to startle them as he works. It’s been a few months now since the bees found their new home, but Cas isn’t sure he will get any honey production this year; he started a little late and if he does it will be a small one. Regardless, Dean is proud of him for doing something for himself that he enjoys. 

Mostly, Dean is glad he stayed. 

He had his worries, after everything went down nearly a year and a half ago now. Jack, in all his power, had saw fit to close heaven and hell, locking himself up in heaven. It caused all of the angels to be yanked back in from wherever they were on earth or scattered in the universe. Before he did this, he gave Cas a choice: stay an angel and return to heaven forever, or become human and live on earth for the remainder of his body’s life, and then die and be brought back to heaven. 

It should have been a difficult choice, but Dean remembers the moment vividly. 

Cas had glanced over at Dean, eyes lingering, darting across his features, and turned back to Jack. “I’ll fall.”

Dean tries not to think about that moment too much. He doesn’t know what it means, only that a part of him feels responsible for Cas’ decision.

Afterwards, Cas was sick for awhile, similar to the sort of illness Jack had when he was losing his grace. Except this one wasn’t fatal, it just friggin’ sucked. Dean expected Cas to leave once he felt better, go out and explore the world in his new body and chance at life. They all decided to retire from hunting, and seemingly for Cas, moving on was the logical next step. But he didn’t, he stayed, and he still stays for some idiotic reason next to Dean’s side. 

Cas waves at him from outside, grinning cheesily from behind his veil. 

Dean waves back, heart clenching in his chest. 

He is so in love with him. 

Later in the afternoon he finds Cas in the library, curled up against the window, knees pulled up towards his chest, a book about Astrophysics open in his lap and _ Beekeeping for Dummies _ lying at his feet. He looks cozy, wearing a pair of soft black sweatpants and one of Dean’s old band t-shirts stolen from is drawer. Thief, he keeps doing that even though he has his own t-shirts. It’s early afternoon, rays of light streaming in through the window, casting Cas in a bright light and illuminating the traces of dust floating through the air. Dean pauses in the doorway, leaning up against it, and watches him, waits until Cas hears the soft sound of Dean’s breathing and looks up from whatever paragraph he just finished. He blinks slowly at Dean and gives him a once over followed by an easy smile. 

“Hello.”

“Hey,” Dean says, slow, blushing under the intense attention. “I know you’re reading and all, but I made some sweet tea, and put some honey in it - a little extra just how you like - and figured I’d bring you some.” Dean reveals said glass of ice tea from behind his back and Cas grins. 

“Thank you, yes.” Cas reaches for it greedily. 

“How’s the book?” Dean asks, coming in close and peering over Cas’ shoulder at the page open in front of him. 

“Fascinating. The current chapter explains about the varying nebulae in our solar system as well as others, the types of stars, and other particles within. It’s strange, I used to be amongst the stars, but understanding them from a human perspective gives me a greater appreciation for them.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are we still making pie?” Cas asks, craning his neck to look up at Dean over his shoulder.

“Yeah, come find me when you finish the next chapter. I’m just prepping some stuff for it right now.”

“Okay,” Cas says, tiny smile on his face as he takes the first sip of his tea, fingers of his free hand fluttering to rest on the page in front of him. 

Dean lingers a few moments longer and then retreats back into the kitchen. If allowed, he’d stand around and just watch Cas exist. Unfortunately, he’s got work to do. 

Twenty minutes later Cas finds him. He pads into the kitchen looking incredibly soft and huggable. Dean wishes it were more acceptable for him to just cross the room and hug him for no reason, to wrap him up tight in his arms and hold him, even if it’s for a brief second. 

“So, pie?” Cas asks. 

Dean nods, moving over a bit at the counter so Cas can settle in next to him, their elbows bumping as they get situated. “I figured we’d make apple. It’s simple and always a favorite.”

“Sound delicious,” Cas agrees. 

Dean pre-prepped all of the ingredients and lined them up on the counter, from the flour and butter to the sliced apples and the pie dish. 

“So first we’re gonna do the crust. Some people like to buy their crust at the grocery store because they are too lazy to do it themselves. These people are heathens, Cas, and their pies should be shamed. The only good pies have homemade crusts, they are made with love which is why they taste better.”

Cas nods slowly and very seriously, but he’s biting down on his bottom lip, which means he is fighting back laughter. 

“I’ll let you do as much of the process that you want. It takes a bit, but as you know from having tried my pies, it’s more than worth it.”

“It is,” Cas says. Dean sees him eyeing the flour and butter and slides the two ingredients over to him. 

“Yep, those go in first. Mix ‘em all around with a fork until it’s blended and then I’ll pour cold water in while you stir.”

Cas does his best. He gets a little bit of flour on the counter from over-eager stirring and an over-zealous flick of his wrist sends a small puff of flour landing right onto his cheek and leaving a white smudge. 

Dean points at his cheek. “You got a little something.” Cas frowns and goes cross-eyed trying to look at it. He swipes at the spot with a finger and misses completely, twice. Dean itches to get it for him, so he does, licking the pad of his thumb and dragging it across Cas’ cheek until the spot is gone. 

His heart is pounding in his chest once he’s done, just from that simple intimate touch. He focuses on anywhere but Cas’ face, grabbing the bowl of granny smiths and the rest of the ingredients that go with them, pulling them closer to where they’re working.

“Okay,” Dean says, clearing his throat. “That looks good, it needs to go in the fridge for a bit. We’ll do the apples while it sits. Now, for spices it’s pretty basic: sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon juice, a little bit of salt, and flour. But, when I make my pies, I put in a little something special, a teaspoon of bourbon. It gives it an extra sweetness with a hint of a kick.”

“That’s why it tastes different than any apple pie you get at a diner.” Cas states, looking up at him in a daze of realization.

“Yep!”

Dean gives Cas the measurements and lets him go at it, satisfied at how good a learner he is. He folds the spices over and over until it becomes liquefied over the apples in a sheen of cinnamon-y goodness. 

“Perfect. Now time for rolling.”

Dean demonstrates the proper art of rolling pie dough, and gives Cas the rolling pin to try it himself. He does good the first push, but then starts pushing too hard and makes the dough thinner than it needs to be. “Try to make it even around the edges the same thickness.”

Cas does try, but he ends up making the problem worse rather than better, and a piece of dough breaks away from the mass onto the counter. 

“Okay lemme just,” Dean stutters, trying to figure out how to do this. “Can I help you?” 

Cas squints at him and then nods. “Of course.”

Dean sucks in a deep breath and moves, stepping in behind Cas. He scoots closer until his chest is lining Cas’ back. He drapes his arms over Cas’ forearms, fitting his hands atop Cas’ where they’re holding the rolling pin and tries not to lose his goddamn mind. “Just uh, relax and let me move your hands, I’ll show ya, you’ve almost got it.”

“Okay,” Cas says quiet, and Dean feels the rumble of Cas’ voice radiate through his body. 

He rolls the pin forward, stops and comes back, making sure Cas gets a good feel for the process and technique. “Feel the pressure? That’s how hard you wanna push. Any more and it’s gonna break apart, keep it nice and smooth and even and you’re golden.”

Regretfully, he steps back, hands sliding away up and off Cas’ arms. If he lingers a little too long, sue him. Cas hestiates at first, frozen with his hands on the rolling pin, until he takes a steeled breath and rolls forward. It’s much better and more even, with no danger of crumbling dough. 

“That’s perfect,” Dean says, approvingly. He claps Cas on the back and moves to his side to stir the apples again. 

Dean demonstrates how to line the edges of the pie dish with the dough, and lets Cas do the rest. He takes to it easily, focusing so intently on the task at hand his eyebrows crinkle together as he works, with delicate fingers. Dean itches to touch him again, but he doesn’t have an excuse so he refrains. He watches the movement of Cas’ fingers instead, idly wondering what they’d feel like inside him. Cas’ sexual exploits have gotten his mind on a loop of _ what ifs _ the entire day. Dean clears his throat purposefully, right as Cas is pinching the edges of the dough at the top to make an edge around the pie. Cas looks up at him with a quirked eyebrow and Dean nods dumbly at him.

“Yeah, uh, it looks great! Just gotta cut a cross in the middle of it so it can breathe in the oven.”

“Breathe?” Cas asks. 

Dean smiles. “Figure of speech, Cas. There’s gotta be a hole somewhere, otherwise the filling won’t cook right.”

“Oh, okay.”

“All that’s left is to wait for her to cook and cool and then we can dive in,” Dean explains. He dusts off his hands on his apron. He let Cas use one of his favorite aprons, a baby blue one with little baby pies on the front with hearts surrounding them. He got it as a joke from Goodwill when they first moved here; it was only a dollar and he needed an apron. Cas looks a mix of adorable and weirdly attractive in it. Dean’s not sure what it is, but the way he cooks is just like how Cas does everything else: calculated and efficient and with great care to make sure everything is exactly right. Dean’s weird, but it’s hot, and always has been. 

“How much time do we have?” Cas asks, mimicking Dean’s movements and rubbing his hands on the apron. He stares down at the pie, perplexed, watching as Dean slips it into the oven.

“About an hour.”

“Hmm.” 

“What?”

Cas moves, untying his apron and handing it off to Dean. “I think I might head upstairs and nap for a bit, if that’s alright.”

“You didn’t get that much sleep last night, huh?” Dean states, waggling his eyebrows at Cas for maximum effect. 

Cas rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Yes, well, I was unaware how tiring sex was.”

“Now you know.”

“Now I do.”

Cas is acting off, seems too tense. He’s staring at Dean with an unreadable look in his eyes, but then he backs off and sighs. “Thank you for the very informative lesson on pie baking. Will you come wake me when the pie is done?” 

“Yeah, I will. Enjoy your nap.”

Dean moves to hug him, but ends up awkwardly patting his shoulder instead. Cas smiles, a tiny but genuine one, and Dean watches as he walks away, heading towards the stairs. 

Once he’s gone, Dean gets to work on his usual Saturday routine of cleaning the kitchen and the surrounding area. The aroma of baked apples kicks in about thirty minutes later, filling the air with cinnamon-y goodness that has Dean’s stomach rumbling. He should probably figure out something to cook for dinner, though he’s sure Cas wouldn’t be opposed to having grilled burgers. 

He’s in the middle of cutting tomatoes for said burgers when he hears a yell of his name from upstairs. He freezes mid-slice and drops the knife onto the cutting board. It comes again, Cas’ voice scratchy and choked off like he’s been yelling for hours. Dean runs up the stairs, pounding on Cas’ door twice. “Cas? Are you okay?”

He can hear Cas whimpering now from behind the other side of the door. Cas sounds like he’s hurt, whimpers turning into a drawn-out sob. Dean tries the door and finds it unlocked, and bursts in. The scent of sex from last night still lingers in the air, but he just ignores that. He finds Cas in bed, shirtless, curled in on himself and sobbing, cheeks wet with tears. He’s asleep, that much Dean can tell instantly. 

“Hey, Cas, wake up buddy, c’mon.”

That doesn’t work and Cas keeps sobbing, turning his face to bury his sniffling nose into the pillow. Dean kneels beside him, reaches out a hesitant arm and rests it on Cas’ shoulder, careful not to startle him too much. He knows firsthand how jarring it is being woken up from a nightmare. 

“Cas,” Dean says softly, rubbing his shoulder and down his arm. 

Cas startles awake and then jerks back, eyes wide and terrified, and scoots away from Dean. He pants, eyes darting all over the room and back to Dean’s face. Dean’s hand has fallen from Cas’ shoulder to his forearm and he squeezes, trying to ground him with touch.

“Hey, it’s just me.”

“What happened?” Cas asks in a quiet voice. He sounds terrified, and Dean would do anything to make it so Cas never has to experience whatever he went through again. 

“I heard you yelling from downstairs, sounded bad and I was worried. You were dreaming.”

“Nightmare,” Cas grates out. He relaxes a tad, sitting back against the headboard and running a hand through his hair. 

He sighs, heavy, blinks slow and looks at Dean. His eyes are still watery and Dean is still touching him, rubbing his thumb in circles over Cas’ arm. 

“Of all the things humans experience, nightmares may be one of the worst. Pain I felt as an angel, hunger is easily managed, but nightmares? They have no fix.”

Dean nods in understanding and asks, “What was it this time?”

“We were hunting,” Cas starts, he pauses and darts his eyes down to his lap. “A ghoul I think, a determined one. It caught you off guard and I wasn’t fast enough at intervening. You -” Cas’ voice falters. “You died, and since I was human I couldn’t save you.”

He swallows thick and shakes his head. “I start to feel safe here in his haven you’ve built, and then... something like this happens while I’m sleeping and makes me question everything.”

On an impulse of poor decision making, Dean slides his hand down to Cas’, fits their palms together and holds on tight. “I’m okay, Cas, I’m right here.”

Cas squeezes his hand back and a tear slips down his cheek. “I know, but I’m terrified the next time I fall asleep, you won’t be.”

Dean gets it. He’s struggled with this since almost infancy, worries about Sam almost constantly, and Cas too in the recent years. Since retiring it's subsided some, but he knows the trauma will never fully go away. 

“I have nightmares like that too sometimes, especially after you died a few years ago. I relieved it, day after day, night after night until you came back. It was a special version of my own hell. I didn’t know what to do.”

“How did you cope?” Cas asks, finally meeting Dean’s eyes again. 

Dean chuckles darkly, remembering how eaten up he felt inside, how he walked around with a festering hole in his heart for the better part of a month until Cas called and said the Empty spit him back out. “I didn’t. Once you came back I had to keep reminding myself everything was okay, that you were okay. I still dream about Sam dying too, and then I call him in the middle of the night to make sure he’s alright. He’s always grouchy about being woken up, but understands my need to know he’s alright.”

“I’m sorry for the pain,” Cas states and looks sadder at this statement than he has during the rest of their conversation. 

“Hey, pain is a part of being human and caring. We’re both here and alive, that’s all that matters right?”

“Right.”

Cas glances down at the comforter, toys with the frayed end of the mauve blanket at his hip, contemplative. “If this happens again, which I assume it will, can I check in with you?”

Dean gives him an encouraging smile. “Any time, Cas, yeah.”

“Thank you.” Cas tries a tiny smile, looking up at Dean through his damp eyelashes. 

_ He’s going to be okay, we’ll get through this _, Dean says to himself, repeats it like a prayer because he doesn’t know what he’ll do if Cas isn’t okay.

It’s around this time Dean notices what he’d ignored in his frazzled haze, that Cas is very shirtless and very distracting. He’s just sorta sitting there, blankets pooled around his lap, hands resting at his side, one of which is entangled with Dean’s. Dean lets himself look -- though he shouldn’t -- up Cas’ tanned and toned chest, the dark ovals of his nipples that Dean would spend hours sucking on if given the chance. He tracks his eyes back up and finds Cas watching him, an expression a mix of confusion and curiosity on his face. 

“What are you staring at?” Cas asks. 

Dean clears his throat, blushing furiously, and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Uh, nothing. Hey, you wanna help me with dinner? I was thinking burgers.”

He’s an expert at changing subjects, totally smooth. 

It works and Cas’ eyes light up. “My favorite.”

“Mhmm,” Dean sing-songs. “I used the last of the potatoes for breakfast yesterday so we can’t have fries, but there are a few bags of chips in the pantry, we could have those.”

“Perfect.”

“Awesome,” Dean replies. He’s jittery now, feeling exposed even though Cas seemingly doesn’t suspect anything of his minor slip-up. He pats Cas’ hand twice and gets up, searching around briefly before grabbing Cas’ discarded shirt from the floor and tossing it at him. It hits Cas right in the center of his chest. 

“No shirt, no service in my kitchen, remember,” Dean says, pointing a finger at him. 

“I’ll remember that,” Cas replies and winks. 

Dean’s frozen momentarily, then nods quickly and shoots a finger gun at him, turning and practically running down the stairs in his haste to hopefully not have to visualize Cas putting on his clothes. 

It’s been a _day_. He’s fragile_. _

* * *

** _Dean’s Little Slice of Paradise_ **

_ So, this update isn’t about me, it’s about Cas. I helped Cas bake his first pie today and let me tell you: it was a success. _

_ Yes, please applaud my patience as Cas has no knowledge of pie-making other than his observation of me all these years. Don’t worry, I started him off simple, a classic apple, with my special ingredient added, which you all don't get to know. After all, some things are best kept a secret :). There were a few minor hiccups, including some pesky dry dough that didn’t want to stay together, but otherwise the entire thing went off without a hitch. We each had a slice after dinner and it tasted delicious, especially when warmed up with a scoop of ice cream on the top. _

_ I’ve attached a picture of Cas holding the finished product. Isn’t he cute? He even kept the apron on for the picture, what a trooper. I’m pretty proud of him. _

_ Below is the full recipe minus my special ingredient, don’t worry it’ll still taste great without it. _

_ Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like Cas to try baking. It seems to be his favorite type of kitchen activity. _

_ Until next time! _

_ \-- Dean _


	8. Chapter 8

August bleeds into September and with it comes cooler temperatures and the changing of the seasons. Leaves of the deciduous trees surrounding the house darken, turning pastel orange and brown, fluttering to the ground like snowflakes and covering the green grass in a blanket of varying shades of brown. Life continues as it has been, their usual routine kept up even as the seasons change. Cas is up earlier in the mornings, much to his dismay, tending to the bees before and after work, making sure they’re set up for the upcoming chill. Dean has been busier too, putting the finishing touches on twenty-six new desks for the elementary school in town. He’d managed to fit them all into the barn somehow, lined them up and got to work once the contract came in. Cas doesn’t see him much if he’s home during the day; Dean’s either in the barn crafting, under the Impala fiddling around with her parts while he thinks, or keeping company of the chickens. 

He’s still himself, but he seems off somehow, in a way Cas can’t quite pinpoint. Not upset exactly, but quieter, distant. It’s worrying to a degree, but he’s not unhappy. Cas only hopes he hasn’t upset Dean somehow. 

Sam visited before school started in late August, and he and Dean left for a while in the Impala. Cas didn’t mind, knows that Dean needs time with Sam by himself. Cas, selfishly, wants Sam to come home once he’s done with school, and knows Dean does as well so their family can be a full family once again, but he’s under the suspicion that won’t happen. In a way, he gets it. Sam needs to create his own new life post-hunting just like Dean and Cas do, and while Cas’ chosen residence is at Dean’s side, Sam might need to be away for a while. 

When it comes to Dean, Cas is at an impasse. He’s unsure of Dean’s feelings towards him; he knows without a shadow of a doubt that Dean loves him, but doesn’t know if that love extends past familial. There are moments he thinks he sees something more, in the way Dean blushes sometimes at things he’s said, or when Cas touches him, but he’s never sure. Cas doesn’t want to act upon an uncertainty, because there’s too much history between them to make a move on chance. 

Cas sees other people when has time, which is rarely. Not out of a want for an emotional connection; he has what he needs there with Dean. It’s purely sexual, filling a need that his body has and wants satiated. Sex is fun, he enjoys it immensely, and has a signficant ability to separate his exploits from his own emotions. He knows he’ll never be in love with anyone other than Dean, that’s impossible. But it feels nice to be wanted, and to let another person help bring him to orgasm. He’s left feeling partially fulfilled; it’s enough. It has to be. 

He meets Brian on a rainy Saturday at the farmer’s market. Cas is perusing the main produce area of the market, stopping near the local potato stand. Dean asked him to pick up a fifty pound bag of potatoes while he was here. Sundays tend to be days with fried potatoes or potato pancakes, and Cas hates missing out, so he was more than happy to fulfill Dean’s request. 

Usually, Darren Williams is here educating Cas on the proper harvesting protocol for vegetables in the coming fall months. Today, Darren has been replaced by a younger man, around Dean’s age or a little younger. He’s pretty, a shock of golden hair falling over his forehead, a chiseled jawline, and evergreen eyes - not as pretty as Dean, but striking enough to catch Cas’ attention. He gives Cas a once-over, the kind that lingers and is purposeful that Cas has rarely seen in a tiny town like Waldport before. It’s similar to the kinds of looks Dean gives him sometimes, but this is one is meant to be noticed. 

Cas smiles warmly at him and hands him fifteen dollars. “One bag of potatoes, please.”

“It’s all yours. I’m Brian by the way.” Brian says, sticking out a hand for Cas to shake. He grins when Cas does and keeps their hands together for longer than necessary. “I’m going to be filling in for my uncle for the next few months at the market, he said he wanted a break from socializing.”

“I’m Cas. Nice to meet you.”

“You live in town?” Brian asks. 

“No, I live with my friend Dean ten miles or so outside of town, but we both work in Waldport so we’re around a lot.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around,” Brian says, and flashes Cas the kind of flirty smile that means Brian would  _ really _ enjoy seeing him again. 

“Maybe.”

Cas squats and easily picks up the bag of potatoes, cradling it in his arms. He has lost much of his muscular ability since becoming human, but is still stronger than the average person. It was a benefit during the construction of the house. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Brian watching him. 

“I would say I could help you take that to the car, but it looks like you don’t need it.”

Cas chuckles. “I have been told I’m strong.”

“Looks like it.”

He’s not sure how to act, being this openly flirted with by a man. It’s new and nice, he likes the attention. 

“Hey if you’re free later, do you wanna meet for a drink somewhere? I’m not picky, but uh Uptown tends to be the most friendly bar in town,” Brian asks.

“You do mean as a date, correct?”

Brian full-on grins accompanied by a pleasing blush that colors his cheeks. “Yeah, a date.”

Brian reaches over and grabs a strip of receipt paper from the machine, quickly scribbling on it. He smirks and sticks it into the front pocket of Cas’ flannel shirt. 

“Call me.”

“Okay,” Cas smiles. “I will.”

* * *

“Whose number is that?” Dean asks, around a mouthful of chips. He peers over Cas’ shoulder at the scribbled phone number in Cas’ hand.

“Brian,” Cas states. He types the number carefully into his phone, making sure to get it correct.

Cas looks over his shoulder once he’s done and finds Dean’s eyes bugging out of his head. “Brian, who?!”

“A guy I met.”

“Yeah, I got that part. Who is he?” 

Dean has moved now, walking around the island, stuffing another handful of chips into his mouth. 

“He’s running the Williams’ potato stand for Darren for awhile.”

Dean pauses, across from Cas, chewing thoughtfully and throws up his free hand. “So, what, he just... gave you his number in case you needed extra potatoes before next Saturday or something?”

“No, he wants to go out with me.”

“Like... on a date.”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Dean crunches on a chip, swallows, opens his mouth and closes it. “I didn’t know you liked guys.”

Cas blinks at him. Sometimes Dean can be so obtuse. “I always have.”

Dean nods, processing, and Cas just watches him. Dean leans his hip on the counter, and fiddles with the bag in his hand. “Well, uh, I hope you have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Dean gives him a half-smile and pushes off against the counter with his hip, wandering out of the room towards the library. 

Cas calls Brian. They decide on meeting at six at Uptown. Brian is overly flirty on the phone, which is equal parts nice and unsettling. He hopes Brian doesn’t have his hopes up too much; Cas knows what he wants out of this encounter and all subsequent ones afterwards, and a relationship is not that. 

He takes his time getting dressed to leave, sorting through his clothes for nearly an hour until he settles on one of the blue shirts Dean got him and his leather jacket. Dean always told him it made him look good, “like a badass,” so this is most likely a good choice. Since their conversation earlier, the house has been suspiciously quiet. He can’t find Dean anywhere. He heads downstairs around 5:40, slipping on a pair of black boots that go with his jacket and dark blue and black checkered shirt. He’s adjusting the collar when he hears a pair of feet pattering down the stairs. 

“So I was thinking we’d watch the third Indy movie tonight and then -- ” Dean frowns, pointing at Cas who is noticeably dressed to leave, and asks, “Are you... going somewhere?”

“Yes, out with Brian. I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

Dean’s jaw ticks in annoyance and Cas briefly sees something flash in his eyes that he’s never seen before. If he’s not mistaken, it looks like jealousy. 

“Okay, well, you can’t go out there with your collar all fucked up,” Dean states.

Cas squints at him. Dean shakes his head, scoffing, and comes closer. Cas forgets how to breathe as Dean’s fingers slip under the collar of his jacket and he moves it around, fixing the fold until it looks neat. He smooths it down with his palms, and examines Cas for a moment. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Dean says, affectionate, and pats Cas’ shoulders. 

“I will.”

“Call me if you need anything,” Dean says, hands still lingering on Cas’ shoulders. Briefly, Cas is tempted to not go and stay right here, help Dean cook whatever he is planning on for dinner and bask in the comfort of their domesticity. He leaves instead, because he knows tonight it would hurt more to stay than it will to leave for a little while. 

Cas gets to Uptown right on time. It’s early, so there’s only a few cars in the parking lot and he doesn’t have an issue finding a space. Brian is already inside, at a table near the back corner of the bar. He looks hot, to say the least, a dark red v-neck clinging tight to his chest under a leather jacket much like Cas’ own. He hugs Cas immediately when he walks in the door, snaking an arm around his shoulder. 

“Looks like we match,” Brian whispers right into Cas’ ear. 

Cas hugs him back, gripping the back of his jacket and enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together. It’s so different than when he hugs women, or even than when he hugs Dean. With Brian, the sexual tension between them is unquestionable and he it feels like a living thing every place where their bodies are touching.

“We do.”

“Want a drink?” Brian asks after Cas has settled across from him. 

“What are you having?”

“Just a beer, figured we’d take it slow.”

There’s a double meaning to his words, and Cas nods. “Beer it is.”

Brian nods and motions with two fingers at the bartender to bring them two more. 

They chat, idylly, mostly small talk. Cas isn’t complaining, the less Brian knows the better. Cas is not a usual sort of person - delve too deep and Brian will reach things Cas doesn’t want to and cannot explain. It’s better to keep a distance, keep the focus on physical versus emotional. Cas humors Brian anyway, explains about what he does for work and the bees. He talks about Dean, how long ago they moved to Waldport, rambles on the rehearsed story of their backgrounds. Brian is interested, clearly, which is unfortunate. 

Cas is two beers in and only feeling a little lightheaded when Brian starts to try and ask him about his childhood. 

“Do you live in town?” Cas interrupts. 

Brian falters at the sudden change in conversation and nods. “Yeah, I walked here actually.”

Cas openly checks him out with an extra fiery gaze, reaching out and placing a hand on his thigh, and asks, “Would you like to get out of here?”

Brian licks his lips and nods, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Cas doesn’t fully know what he’s doing, but he goes with his instinct. They get up to leave in unison, and Cas slips his hand underneath Brian’s jacket, keeps his palm spread wide at the small part of Brian’s lower back, guiding him out of the bar. He lets Brian lead him once they’re outside. It’s chilly now, and Cas is grateful for the warmth of his jacket as the crisp autumn wind ices his cheeks. Brian is warm under his hand, and he pulls him closer so they walk with their hips bumping every few steps. 

“This one’s me,” Brian says, breaking through the heated silence between them, as they come to a ground floor apartment. He fumbles with his keys in his jacket pocket, hastily jamming the key in to open the door. 

Cas is on him the moment the door slams shut. He spins them around, pushes Brian up against the door and kisses him. Brian groans into his mouth, hands searching under Cas’ jacket, gliding up his chest. His thumbs tweak over Cas’ nipples and it sparks a nerve throughout his body, urging him on while they kiss. Brian shoves Cas’ jacket to the floor, first shirt layer too, and grabs at his biceps. Brian stalls, panting, pulling back to get a good look at Cas,and then dives back in for more messy kisses. Cas gets his hands on Brain’s ass through his jeans, tugs him closer and grinds their cocks together underneath denim. 

“So fucking hot,” Brian grits out through a moan, mouth open and hot on the line of Cas’ neck. 

Cas lets out a gasp that breaks off into a moan when Brian sucks a mark right into the notch of his collarbone. It’s going to be visible tomorrow, purple and spotted. Cas has no idea how to feel about that, but right now it feels good so he goes with it. 

“How do you wanna do this?” Cas grates out, pulling back for air and clarity. 

“Right here,” Brian whispers against Cas’ mouth, still trying to kiss while he talks.

“Up against the wall?”

“Yeah,” Brian groans, desperate. “Please?”

Brian abruptly pulls back, half jogs over to his bedside table and rummages through the drawer, while Cas looks on, breathing heavily and hit with the realization that he’s harder than he’s ever been with any girl he’s fucked. Brian tosses him a bottle of lube and comes back over, starting to kiss at Cas’ jawline, needy fingers slipping up underneath Cas’ t-shirt to toy with his nipples. 

Cas has a condom in his pocket, one of the ones Dean gave him after Sadie. Brian helps him with his belt, then slips his pants down enough around his ass so he can pull his cock out and slide the condom on. Brian’s hands are everywhere, grabbing at his ass, the meat of his thighs, obviously in need of this just as much as Cas is. 

Cas kisses him, licks into his mouth, more tongue than lips, and taps at the inside of his thigh. 

“Open.”

Brian does, presses his entire back against the wall and spreads his legs for Cas, so easy. Cas fingers him open, quicker than he would like, but they’re both desperate, so he takes the minimal time he needs.

Brian asked for up against the wall, and that’s exactly what he gets. Cas fucks into him slow, gives him a chance to get used to the thickness inside of him, and then grips his upper thighs, hoisting him up. He fucks him quick and dirty, chasing orgasm as heat pools in his stomach. Brian whines more than he moans, wraps his arms around Cas’ neck, hands in Cas’ hair and holds on and takes it. He comes first, into his own shirt, gasping curses into the side of Cas’ neck. Cas follows him a minute later, one long guttural moan against his chest. He holds Brian up a few seconds longer as he comes back to himself, and then slides him back down to his feet. 

“That was fun,” Brian says, chuckling. He’s awkward now, post-sex, running a nervous hand through his messed up hair. Cas steps back to throw away the condom and starts gathering up his clothing. 

“It was,” Cas states in agreement. He feels sated, an adrenaline rush coursing through his veins that is different than with Sadie, stronger somehow. He must be more attracted to men than women. 

“Let’s do it again?” Brian asks, question open ended. He’s clearly nervous about the answer, watching Cas as Cas tugs on the rest of his clothes. 

“Call me and we can plan a time,” Cas replies. He offers Brian a gentle smile. It’s not a no, Cas would fuck him again.

“Deal. See you, Cas.”

Cas tries to fix his hair in the car. He looks in the mirror of the sun visor, using the light from the distant street lamp to pick at the wild ends with his fingers. He licks the pad of his hand and attempts to smoosh it down. It doesn’t work. 

Cas sighs, rolling his eyes at himself, his poor decisions, and obvious debauchery. Dean is going to know; there’s no way Dean _ won’t  _ know. 

Tonight is movie night too.

Cas digs his phone out of his pocket and checks it for the first time all night. He sees one text from Dean, sent about fifteen minutes ago. 

**Dean: If you’re still coming home tonight for the movie, pick up some more beer. **

**El Sol? **

**Dean: You betcha. **

**I will be home in twenty.**

**Dean: I’ll start popping the popcorn. :p**

Cas walks through the front door exactly nineteen minutes later to the smell of warm butter and erratically popping corn coming from the kitchen. He tugs off his shoes at the door and follows his nose to the kitchen with the case of beer in his hand. Dean is standing at the island, mixing butter and various spices through a large bowl of popcorn. 

He looks up when Cas walks in. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Cas answers, depositing the beer onto the counter. 

Dean quirks an eyebrow at him and licks butter off the pad of his finger before continuing to stir. “Have fun?”

“I did.”

Dean nods once and moves around behind Cas to reach the spice rack, grabbing the garlic powder. 

“You smell funny,” Dean states. He sprinkles garlic atop the popcorn and starts stirring again.

“Do I?” Cas asks. 

He watches Dean closely. The guarded, closed posture he’s exhibiting now is strange. He hasn’t seen it in, well, nearly two years since they moved here. 

“Mhmm,” Dean hums. He licks at his finger again and nods, satisfied. “Not your cologne.”

“Does it smell bad?”

Dean meets his eyes head on. “Terrible.”

“Should I change then?” Cas asks. 

Dean shrugs, picking up the enormous popcorn bowl and the case of beer. “If you want to. I’ll be in the living room.”

He walks into the other room, leaving Cas in a perplexed state of wondering what just happened. Cas does want to change, because he feels dirty and uncomfortable in these clothes now. 

Cas comes back down in sweatpants and a faded blue t-shirt. He tried to find one that wouldn’t reveal the angry purple mark Brian left on him, but all of his shirts are a little big. He’ll have to deal with whatever sort of teasing Dean decides to give him. 

The home menu screen is playing the Indiana Jones theme when he plops down onto the couch next to Dean. Dean is sitting at one end, an open beer in his hand, feet propped up on the coffee table, big bowl of popcorn situated between them. He glances over at Cas when he sits down, and Cas feels the weight of his gaze heavy on his skin. Dean smiles softly and hits play.

Cas pops open a beer, drinks half of it in one go, and starts to dig into the popcorn. 

He does listen to the movie, but he spends more time watching Dean. Dean has a habit of quoting his way through all the Indiana Jones movies. It’s what makes them repeatedly watchable in Cas’ opinion, just to see Dean re-enact every scene with varying accents and sound effects himself. Cas is giggling and hiccuping from the beer and Dean’s acting within the first five minutes. 

They’re on beer number two by the time Indiana gets to Portugal. Dean’s quoting Elsa in a high pitched voice when he suddenly drops back to normal and asks, “What is that?”

“What is what?”

Dean points a finger at his collarbone and waves it up and down.  _ “That.” _

“Someone got carried away,” Cas explains. He takes a sip of his beer, watching Dean from the corner of his eye. 

Dean’s eyes go dark and he looks upset, but it’s subdued enough that anyone other than Cas would have no idea. He fidgets with the controller in his lap, licks his lips and sighs.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Dean asks. 

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“I had fun.”

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t really know him, so no.”

“But... you could.”

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean says, holding his hands up in defense. “Just asking.”

Cas rolls his eyes, takes a sip of beer and focuses back on the screen. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Dean doesn’t say anything to that, but next to Cas the popcorn clinks around in the metal bowl. 

Some time during the second half of the movie, Dean moves the now-empty popcorn bowl out of the way and, much to Cas’ surprise, scoots closer to him on the couch. Their thighs are pressed together, and the warmth heats Cas from the inside out. He itches to touch Dean, to kiss him, to get his hands on him somehow in a way that would be acceptable. Nothing he wants is acceptable. 

Dean however, has other ideas. During the middle of a particularly intense fight scene, his head slips onto Cas’ shoulder. He’s breathing evenly, but Cas knows he’s not asleep; he can tell by how his hands move, restless atop his thigh. 

Interesting. 

Cas moves slowly so as not to startle him, and curves his arm up and around Dean’s shoulder, pulling him in with his palm so he’s cradling Dean’s head against his side. Dean sighs out happily against Cas’ arm and snuggles closer. 

Eventually Dean really does drift off to sleep, so when his head slides down to Cas’ lap, Cas isn’t surprised. It’s surprising that he stays asleep like that, face curved towards Cas’ hip, hands curled up in his lap. Cas touches him then, starting to slowly card his fingers through Dean’s hair. He can’t help it when he’s  _ right there. _

The credits roll, but neither of them makes a move. Dean snores quietly and Cas continues stroking his hair. The DVD player turns off after a period of inactivity, sending the room into darkness except for the moonlight outside the window. 

“Dean,” Cas whispers, pausing in playing with Dean’s hair, fingertips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “It’s bed time.”

“Don’t wanna move,” Dean mumbles, smacking his lips together as he starts to wake up. 

“You need to, you’re going to hurt tomorrow morning if you sleep on me like this.”

“M’comfy.” Dean proves his point by nuzzling his nose into Cas’ thigh. 

Cas sighs and almost gives in. 

“Come on,” Cas murmurs. His fingertips brush Dean’s ear again, the sensitive spot right beneath on his neck, and Dean grunts, squirming.

He sits up slowly, blinking his eyes open and rubbing at them with loose fists. He yawns widely and smiles all dopey at Cas.

Cas chuckles at him, heart warming from how soft Dean looks right now. His hair is sticking up on his head, floofed from Cas’ thigh, and the cotton shirt and pants he is wearing look so soft. Cas wants to just hold him and never let go.

“Can you walk?” he asks instead.

Dean blinks and slowly shakes his head, sighing over dramatically as he throws a glance towards the stairs. “No, I think you might have to carry me.” 

“I would if you actually needed me to.”

“Well,” Dean says, batting his long eyelashes. “I’m in dire need.”

“Dean.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Alright, alright I’m going.” 

Dean does wobble a little once he gets to his feet, body still not fully awake, so Cas keeps a steady hand on his shoulder all the way up the stairs. 

They pause at the landing on the top, Cas’ hand still on him. Dean’s skin burns warm through his t-shirt and Cas has half a mind to follow him into his room, curl up together, and see if Dean would be jealous then. He doesn’t, but he does hug him. Dean makes a surprised squeak as Cas pulls him in by the back of his shirt, dragging him close until their chests are pressed together and Dean’s arm comes up and wraps around his lower back. Cas allows himself to breathe in the scent of him, burying his nose into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. Dean sucks in a shaky breath and Cas feels his hand tighten on his back. 

“Good night, Dean,” he says, clenching the fabric of Dean’s t-shirt in his fist. Regretfully, he releases him. 

“Night, Cas,” Dean replies. Dean looks at him as if in a daze for a moment and they just stare at each other in the darkened hallway. Dean breaks first, mouth quirked up, and gives Cas a little wave before turning and heading towards his room.

Cas’ bed feels cold tonight, the expanse of it ocean-wide compared to his own body only taking up a small part. He lies on his side, curling around one of his extra pillows like it’s a person, like this inanimate object will replace the aching hole in his heart where he knows Dean should be. 


	9. Chapter 9

Sunday comes and goes with little fanfare, despite the events of the night before. Dean spends it wandering around their little plot of land, separating his time between the house with Cas, the garage, and the river. He stays out of Cas’ way - mostly not on purpose, but he needs time to think. He spends a few hours under the Impala, tinkering with the various belts and metal pieces and making sure she’s working just as good as new. He’s down there so long Cas comes looking for him and brings him a cold beer, accompanied with a worried tsk. 

Cas shouldn’t worry about Dean, he’ll be fine. Even if Cas changes his mind and does one day leave, Dean will find a way to move on. 

He has to. 

It’s Monday now and all things related to Cas and  _ Brian  _ are set-aside as he gets back to the regular routine of the week. Cas works earliest on Mondays, the one day of the week he’s up as early as Dean. He never wakes up on time, usually tumbles out of bed right as Arnold starts crowing at the break of dawn and sits in a zombie-like state at the dining room table sipping on a cup of coffee before it’s time to shower. Dean still doesn’t know  _ why _ Cas thought Arnold was an appropriate name for a rooster, but it’s become endearing over time. 

Cas has already left, still blinking sleep from his eyes, by the time Dean heads outside to feed the chickens. Dean let Cas take the Impala this morning, after making him promise on his life that he’s a dead man if she comes back with a scratch on her. Dean needs the truck this afternoon for a project he’s been working on for the local middle school. The students need new desks and the principal contracted Dean to finish them before the new semester starts. He has piles of cedar strewn about the barn in every open area, and about half of the desks completed with two weeks until the fall term begins. He can do it, but he does need more wood. 

Dean doesn’t buy from Home Depot, it’s too mainstream for his taste. Ben Fraser has a lumber yard just on the outskirts of town, prices cheaper for better quality, so Dean takes his business there. On his way home, Cas’ truck filled to the brim with freshly cut wood, he stops along the coast at one of the more secluded beaches along 101. 

Dean parks the truck right on the edge of the beach, leaves his shoes in the car, and walks out, warm sand squishing under his toes. He finds a log near the edge of the water, sits down on the edge and looks out. The waves rush up, tickling his feet and making him shiver from the chill of the water. 

It’s later in the afternoon, the sun golden and warming his skin everywhere it touches him. He wishes Cas were here with him. Cas would go off on some spiel about the type of sand under their feet, the makeup of it, what sort of organisms died so it could sparkle just so in the glow of the sun. It’s funny how Dean misses him already and they saw each other this morning. 

He doesn’t know how he did it before when Cas was an angel and gone all the time. 

_ Things were different then, you distracted yourself from being in love with him,  _ Dean’s brain oh-so-helpfully reminds him. 

He stays a while, relaxes alone for the first time in a long time, letting the sun soak into his skin. He sifts the sand through his fingers, buries his toes in it, and even rolls up his jeans to his knees and wades out in the water up to the middle of his calves. When his feet start to numb from the temperature of the water, he heads back to the car, drying himself off with one of the spare towels Cas always keeps in the backseat in case of emergencies. 

The Impala is already in the driveway when he gets home. Dean backs the truck up the grassy incline to the barn so he can work on the desks after dinner, and heads back to the Impala. Examining her with meticulous eyes, he doesn’t find any new visible scratches. Good job, Cas. 

Dean whistles as he climbs the front steps, eager to tell Cas about his day, the beach, and the great deal he got on the wood. He wants to hear about Cas’ day too; he always has the most interesting stories from Gas N’ Sip. 

He pulls off his shoes on the mat near the front door, sing-songing “I’m home!” He snickers at himself and turns back around from locking the door and freezes, heart jumping into his throat when he sees Cas. He’s sitting on the couch, thighs partially spread and a man Dean vaguely recognizes - must be Brian - in his lap. Dean freezes in the doorway, eyes locked on the two of them while they make out. They haven’t noticed him, still playing tonsil-hockey. Cas’ hands are tight on Brian’s hips and Brian has his arms around Cas’ neck, hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Dean stares. He’s intoxicated watching how Cas kisses, so focused and insistent as he licks into Brian’s mouth, breathy gasps leaving his lips as Brian grinds down on him. 

A jolt of anger, arousal, and sadness rushes through him all at once and he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. 

Dean shifts his weight to escape and a floorboard creaks loudly beneath his foot. 

Cas looks up immediately, shock coloring his features. He pulls dramatically back and off of Brian, even as Brian leans back in chasing his mouth, Cas presses a flat palm to his chest to stop him.

“Dean,” Cas whispers. 

Dean almost loses it, but intakes a shaky breath and says, “I’m just... gonna...” He lamely gestures towards the kitchen, and beelines in there, not bothering to glance back. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest and he leans his elbows on the island, trying to calm his breathing. 

Through his daze of confusion and panic, Dean hears Cas and Brian talking quietly, indistinguishable from this far away. There’s the sound of the front door shutting and what Dean assumes are Cas’ footsteps coming towards him. Dean moves quickly, pulling open the pantry door and looking for the pasta, or at least something to occupy his hands with so it’s not obvious that he’s freaking out. 

He unceremoniously dumps half of the pasta from the bag into a pot of water and realizes the water isn’t boiling yet. The urge to scream increases with every passing second. He hears Cas’ feet stop a couple feet away, but doesn’t dare look over, unsure of what his face will look like if he does. Dean takes a few seconds, adjusts the temperature of the stove, steels his face. and presents Cas with the most nonchalant smile he can manage. 

“Hey! How was work?”

Cas approaches him like he’s a spooked dog, which, in a way, he is. “Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean shrugs, like it’s no big deal, even as a traitorous blush creeps up his neck. “It’s fine. It’s your house too, you know, so you can do whatever. Personally, I’d rather you not go further than second base on our couch, but ya know, whenever the need calls.” Dean chuckles while he stirs the still-stiff pasta, tries to play it off as a joke, but it sours mid-sentence and Cas just looks back at him, sorrowful and ashamed. 

“Brian was over at the strawberry farm and asked if he could come over for a moment. I didn’t -- I truthfully didn’t know this would happen,” Cas says. and Dean meets his eyes and knows that Cas wouldn’t lie to him. He really  _ didn’t _ know - poor guy probably thought Brian just wanted to come over to say hello. It’s said so incredibly genuinely Dean’s heart aches. 

“Oh.” They stare at each other, and Dean breaks first. “Like I said, you want people to come over - boyfriend, partner, whatnot - that’s cool, just maybe a little more warning next time.”

Cas sighs, heavy. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose, and nods. “Okay, well,  _ whatever _ he is, it’s fine with me.”

“It’s clearly not fine,” Cas shoots back and Dean rolls his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter if it’s fine with me or not, okay? As long as you’re happy and safe, that’s all I care about.”

“Dean,” Cas protests, and he reaches out and grabs Dean’s wrist. Dean tries to step away. 

“Just.. let me cook dinner, okay?”

Cas softens, loosens his grip on Dean’s wrist, and nods. “Okay.”

“Do you want me to help?” Cas asks, after a moment. 

Dean shrugs. He wants to put the past five minutes behind him and never speak of it again, but he knows that’s unlikely. Having Cas nearby will at least allow him to pretend that their sense of normalcy is back. “If you want to.”

“I’ll be right back.”

When Cas returns, Dean is chopping up the ingredients for a salad. Cas changed into sweatpants, and also threw on Dean’s favorite apron, the blue one with lovey-dovey pies on it. 

“What can I do?” he asks.

Dean has calmed down some, and seeing Cas comfortable and at home eases him even more. 

“Uh, we have leftover sauce from yesterday, we just ran out of pasta. If you wanna finish the tomatoes and cucumbers for the salad that would be great.”

“A salad. Sam would be so proud of you,” Cas teases. 

Dean looks over at him and finds Cas closer than he expected, standing next to him, edging his way in for access to the cutting board. He’s smiling, a shy one on his face, while he starts to dice the cucumber.

“Shut up.”

They laugh together, and at once it feels like everything is back to normal again. Brian lingers in the back of Dean’s mind, but he focuses on right now, and monopolizing every moment he has with Cas. 

* * *

“Can I ask you something?” Dean says, later on, after they’ve eaten.

They’re two beers deep and Dean’s stuffed full of pasta and salad, ankles resting on each other underneath the table. Cas shifts against him, and furrows his eyebrows, but nods. 

“Of course.”

“Do you ever think of settling down? You know,  _ with  _ someone?”

He watches Cas closely, how he squints, contemplates the question, and bites his lip before answering. 

“No. I’ve found that at times I may yearn for something I know I can’t have, but I am more content now than I have been in the entirety of my existence.”

Dean swallows thickly against the knot that’s settled itself in his throat. “I’m glad.”

“Do you?” Cas asks. He looks curious, watches Dean, eyes intense as ever as he seemingly stares right into Dean’s soul. 

“All the time,” Dean answers, honestly. 

“What do you want?”

_ You  _ flowers and dies on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s changed a lot over the years, since I was a little kid. I no longer want the classic apple pie life, you know -- the whole wife and two kids. I’d really like someone to grow old with, someone to love me unapologetically for the rest of my life in that can’t-get-enough-of-you sort of way.” 

Dean drops his eyes from Cas’ and stares down at his lap, toying with the peeling label of his beer. “Pipe dream, I know.”

“I’m sure it will happen one day. If there’s anyone that deserves that kind of devotion, it’s you.”

Dean fights back the tears welling up in his eyes at Cas’ comment, but covers it up by taking a swig of beer. “Yeah, maybe.”

He finds he doesn’t know what to say after that. They move out to the porch then and sit on the new swing chair Dean made under the stars, beers replaced with tumblers of whiskey. One hour of reminiscing about the past turns into two hours, until Dean’s thrown into a non-stop giggling fit talking about the time he took Cas to the brothel so many years ago. This gets Cas laughing too, all hope of talking any further out the window. They stumble upstairs together, Dean’s hands on Cas’ shoulders as a steady surface for his tipsy body. Dean hugs him tight at the top of the landing before they go their separate ways. He hopes Cas doesn't notice how he clings to the thin fabric of Cas’ t-shirt, barely managing to convince himself to let go. 

* * *

It’s a rare occurrence when Dean and Cas happen to have a weekday off together. This week lined up weird; Cas wasn’t needed on Tuesday and Dean decided he needed a day after the emotional turmoil of yesterday. He wasn’t used to doing things for himself yet, that would take years, but taking days off when he needed them was the first step. 

He decides on eggs and bacon for breakfast this morning, going a little fancier since it’s essentially like an extra weekend for the both of them. He makes toast too, uses cinnamon bread that makes the entire kitchen smell like Christmas. 

It’s a welcome joy after the events surrounding Brian. Dean hasn’t quite figured out how he’s going to deal with the whole situation if Cas decides he  _ does  _ want to date someone, but he’ll deal with that when the time comes. For now, he’s going to pretend like that’s not even a possibility.

Cas comes downstairs like clockwork at 7:30, quietly padding into the kitchen. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Dean says, then chuckles because Cas is the opposite of sunshine in the mornings. 

He waits to hear the sounds of the coffee pot click off the heater and the liquid pouring into Cas’ favorite mug, but it never comes. Dean turns his back to the sizzling eggs and asks, “What, no coffee this morning? You feeling o--” He stops mid-sentence upon seeing Cas. Cas stands a few feet away, a strange look Dean doesn’t recognize on his face. Even more surprising is that he's very awake, and not grumpy, smiling even, even if the smile’s small. He’s in his pajamas, clothing and hair rumpled from sleep. 

“What?” Dean asks, when Cas won’t stop looking at him and still isn’t saying anything. 

“Dean, I...” Cas starts and then laughs at himself, covers his mouth with his hand looking more unsettled than Dean thinks he’s ever seen him before. 

“What?!” Dean asks again, incredulous, because now Cas is practically grinning, and if he’s not mistaken his eyes are shining in a way that look suspiciously like tears.

“I’m in love with you,” Cas states, like it’s obvious, like he should have said it ages ago. Dean takes it in, can’t process, and just stares at Cas with an expression that probably looks like he lost his mind. 

“Dean, did you hear me?” Cas asks. He’s suddenly very close, and his hand is reaching up to cup Dean’s cheek, thumb gliding over Dean’s jawline. Dean turns his face into Cas’ palm, breathes in deep, and nods. 

“I heard you, I’m just, uh, still trying to believe it.”

Cas laughs, strokes Dean’s cheek with his fingers, and leans in until the tips of their noses bump. “Believe this, then.”

As first kisses go, it’s nothing extraordinary; the earth doesn’t shatter beneath Dean’s feet. But somewhere deep inside Dean, with the first soft press of Cas’ lips against his, a part of him finally clicks into place. He rests his shaking hands on Cas’ hips, feeling him solid beneath his hands, and loses himself in the soft slip-slide of their mouths together. Cas gently walks him backwards until his hips hit the counter. 

“The eggs,” Cas groans, dragging his teeth against Dean’s bottom lip as he says it. 

Sure enough, Dean can smell them burning, sizzling away on the stove behind them. 

“Fuck the eggs.” 

Dean flicks off the burner next to him, and dives back in for another kiss. 

He lets Cas move them away from the stove, lets Cas walk them back while they kiss until Dean’s back hits the island. He loses himself in the feel of Cas’ lips on his, how he kisses with such focus, intent on making Dean fall apart right here in the middle of their kitchen. Cas’ hand is warm on Dean’s cheek, but slips down, curving around the side of his neck to pull him closer. He’s trembling under Cas’ hands, brain singing inside his mind:  _ finally.  _

Dean regretfully pulls back for air after an indiscernible amount of time. He gazes at Cas in front of him, mouth swollen from kissing, eyes ablaze. Dean did that to him. Holy shit. 

“Since when?” Dean asks, breathless. 

Cas tilts his head, confused, and then realization dawns on him. He leans back in, eager for more; Dean is ready for him, but is surprised when Cas gives him the chastest of kisses. 

“Years,” Cas answers. 

Dean’s eyes go wide, and he starts laughing because he doesn’t know what else to do. He could have had Cas - for  _ years.  _

“Me too,” Dean says.

“We’ve been so stupid,” Cas chuckles against Dean’s lips and his breath tickles Dean’s top lip. 

Dean adjusts his grip on Cas’ hips, drags him closer and groans when Cas moves with him, slipping a thigh between Dean’s legs. “Guess that means we shouldn’t waste any more time then, huh?” Dean asks. He lets his eyes roam over Cas’ face, now that he’s allowed to look, taking him in. Inside his chest, his heartbeat thuds erratically 

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. “I guess so.”

Cas’ hands are a masterpiece, sliding up underneath Dean’s shirt as they get back to kissing, stroking reverently over his skin. His fingertips bump over Dean’s nipples, teasing him, before sliding back down and gripping his waist. Cas’ fingers are tight on his skin, and Dean leans into the touch, hoping there will be fingerprint marks there tomorrow. He wants evidence that this happened, just in case he wakes up in the morning and this ends up being some sort of fever dream. 

Dean clings to him, shamelessly grinding down on Cas’ thigh, while Cas sucks on his pulse point on the lower part of his neck. He wants to feel Cas without all these pointless clothes between them. They’ve waited so long, and he’s tired of waiting. 

“Bed?” Cas pants, almost as if reading his thoughts, pulling back to look up at Dean. 

He is a sight; pupils blown wide in arousal, a look of desperation in them, and he’s visibly hard underneath his sweatpants. Dean licks his lips and nods. “God, yes.”

Cas’ hands slip off his body and Dean momentarily feels the loss until Cas fingers grab ahold of his and pull him in the direction of the stairs. Stumbling after him, Dean wraps an arm around Cas’ waist, holding on tight, and presses a kiss to Cas’ cheek. The blush that spreads up Cas’ cheeks and neck, accompanied by a shy smile, is enough to make Dean go weak in a way he hadn’t realized was possible. 

Cas loves him, Cas wants him, Cas wants  _ this.  _

They take breaks on their way upstairs, stopping near the front door so Dean can push Cas up against it, kiss him breathless like he’s dreamed about doing since they first moved in. It takes a lot of effort to even start up the stairs, both of them too intent on touching to separate for the slightest moment. Dean trips over the second step and falls into Cas, causing them both to dissolve into a fit of giggles up against the stairwell. Despite the overwhelming sense of happiness blooming in his chest, trickles of doubts in Dean’s mind slip through. 

“Hey,” Dean says once they’ve reached the landing, grabbing at Cas’ wandering hands to still him, which have just become very preoccupied with groping his ass. “What about Brian and Sadie?”

“What do you mean?” Cas asks, hands frozen and face contorted in confusion. 

“If you’ve been in love with me, why did you go looking for them?” Dean asks, dumbly. He’s having trouble thinking, even though his mind wants answers. 

Cas sighs, a heavy one, and slides his arms up from Dean’s ass to wrap around his waist and pull him closer. He rests their foreheads together, making sure Dean’s eyes are locked on his before he replies. 

“I don’t like to say intimate encounters meant nothing, but it truly didn’t. I craved physical affection, so I went out and found it. I wanted you, but I didn’t think that was possible, so I dealt with my feelings the only way I knew how,” Cas explains. 

Dean nods, kisses him once, because he gets it. He’s done the exact same fucking thing. 

“I’ve only ever wanted you,” Cas continues, and kisses Dean to prove his point. He licks into Dean’s mouth, and Dean clings to his arms to keep himself on his feet. 

It’s all too much, too fast. 

Cas takes his hand again, intertwines their fingers together, and pulls back from Dean’s lips. He presses a wet kiss on Dean’s jaw, and leads him towards Dean’s bedroom. Barely past the threshold, Dean starts tugging clothes off Cas’ clothes, desperate to see him, to get all of that tanned skin and strong muscles underneath his hands. They have to separate at one point and Dean stands back to just look at him, watching as Cas unabashedly strips until he’s naked, bared skin shining in the glow of the early morning sun. 

Dean takes him in, how the sun glints off the sharp angles of his jaw, the patch of dark hair on his chest, the toned muscles of his thighs, and the accentuated V of his hips. He’s beautiful. His cock curves up towards his stomach, swollen red. Two steps forward takes Dean to Cas, and he reaches out, gentle fingers sliding up Cas’ chest. He flattens his palm on Cas’ chest, right over his heart, feeling it beat firm and even beneath his fingers. 

“Dean,” Cas says, quiet, delicate, and filled with so much love Dean feels a knot growing in his throat. 

He brushes a thumb over Cas’ nipple to get him to gasp, and slowly traces down Cas’ torso with his fingers. When he gets to Cas’ cock, Dean wraps his hand around the length of him, grip gentle, and strokes up. He’s hot in Dean’s hand, and he thumbs over the slit as pre-cum spreads over his fingers. He meets Cas’ eyes and finds him biting his lip. 

Dean wants to taste him, wants Cas inside of him too, but this he can have right now. He drops to his knees, gripping Cas’ thigh with his free hand, and leans into to mouth at the head of Cas’ cock, keeping eye contact while he does. 

A hand slips into his hair, gripping the short strands and gently tugging him closer. Above him Cas moans, unbidden, and it’s the first time Dean has heard him for real, the first time he is the cause. It’s intoxicating. He hollows his mouth and drops low, licking along the side of his cock, just to get him to make that sound again.

“What do you need?” Cas asks, voice gravel thick, as he cards his fingers through Dean’s hair. 

Dean pulls back and off of Cas’ cock, mouth slick with spit. He licks his lips and answers, “You.”

“Yes, but how?”

Dean blushes, thinking about Cas taking the time to open him up, and how good it will feel to finally have Cas inside him. 

“Want you inside me, if that’s okay.”

The noise Cas makes in response is a cross between a whine and a growl, and he tugs Dean to his feet so they can kiss. “More than okay.”

Dean slips out of the rest of his clothes and climbs onto the bed, propping the pillows up behind him so he’s as comfortable as he can be. He feels exposed like this, completely naked and vulnerable to Cas’ gaze, but when he meets Cas’ eyes all he sees is adoration. Crawling forward, Cas settles between Dean’s legs, places a firm hand on the inside of his upper thigh and says, “Open for me.”

Dean does, scooting down to give Cas better access. He hands him the bottle of lube he keeps next to his bed, and watches while Cas preps his fingers, slicking himself up. He moves in close, hovering over Dean’s body and leans down to kiss him. It’s a sloppy kiss, overeager, but Dean wouldn’t want it any other way. He arches up and sucks on Cas’ tongue, while Cas starts working a finger inside him. 

Cas takes his time, keeping Dean’s mouth occupied with his own while he opens him up, until there’s three fingers easily sliding in and out of him. By the time Dean is ready, he’s moaning obscenly into Cas’ kisses, trying to fuck down onto his fingers, anxious to have Cas inside him. 

His entire body trembles with need.

“Cas,” Dean begs, pant-whining, “please.”

Cas pulls back to look at him, eyes darting over Dean’s face, and he smiles, eyes crinkling. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead. “Okay, I think you’ve waited long enough.” 

Dean goes to move onto his stomach, but Cas’ gentle hand on his side stops him.

“No, like this. I want to see you.” 

Dean chokes out a moan and nods.

Getting impossibly closer, Cas pulls his fingers out and lines up his his cock, kissing Dean the entire time. He thrusts in, agonizingly slow, and Dean pants right into his mouth at the feeling of being so full.

Dean grapples for some part of Cas to hold onto, and half-sobs when Cas grabs his hand, pinning it to the mattress next to Dean’s head and tangling their fingers together. 

At first, Cas fucks him slowly, allowing Dean to get used to the girth of him. Then he actually fucks him, hard enough to spark Dean’s nerve-endings and bring him right to the edge, but with a touch of softness that means he won’t be able to come just from this. 

He won’t last long, not with how strung out he is just from Cas fingering him, but he holds on tight to Cas’ hand and loses himself in the bliss of their bodies together. Dean gets close first, shameless in the whines and gasps of Cas’ name leaving his throat. Sensing his urgency, Cas slips a hand between Dean’s legs, wrapping a gentle fist around his cock. It takes two strokes and a glide of Cas’ thumb over his slit and Dean’s coming, all over his own stomach and Cas’ hand. 

Cas fucks him through it, chasing his own orgasm, close by the way his hips snap against Dean’s. He comes with a groan of Dean’s name, messily kissing him as the aftershocks rock his body. Arching down, Cas presses his forehead to Dean’s and grins, happier and wider than Dean’s ever seen him. 

Cas loves him. It should be terrifying. Instead, it feels like the start of a long-awaited sentence, a new beginning. 

They lay there for a few minutes, regaining breath, wrapped up in the warmth of each other until Cas starts to stir in Dean’s arms.

“Nope,” Dean teases, tightening his grip around Cas’ waist. 

“Dean,” Cas whines, petulant. He scrunches his nose in annoyance, which only serves to make him look even cuter and make Dean drag him closer. 

“What?”

“Towel?” Cas offers, glancing down at the mess between them. 

Dean has to hand it to him, Cas does know Dean and his hatred of being messy, but this is one time he doesn’t care.

“I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Cas asks, incredulous, tilting his head up to look into Dean’s eyes.

“Nope, and if you’re willing, I plan on spending the rest of the day right here.”

Lying here for the rest of the day sounds perfect, Cas entangled in his arms. Alternating between drifting off to sleep and waking back up to fuck again sounds like a special kind of heaven he never thought he’d get.

“Oh?”

Dean nods, nuzzling into crook of Cas’ neck and leaving a soft kiss there. “We’ve got a lot of time to make up for.”


	10. Chapter 10

Cas has never been fond of mornings. There’s some mix-up in his body chemistry that makes him extra groggy when he wakes up, a permanent annoyance under his skin until he has at least two cups of coffee and it tampers down until the next day. Side effect of falling, or so he thought. This morning, for the first time in his human life, he wakes up early, before Dean. 

Sunlight streams in through the cracks in the curtains, peeking over the tops of the evergreens in the distance. It’s bright orange this morning, a citrus sunrise, illuminating the white walls of Dean’s room a golden hue. 

Dean himself, oblivious to the sun’s rising, is graced with a golden ray right across his cheekbone. The light brings out the smattering of freckles dusted over his skin, the tip of his nose, and his eyelids. 

For the first morning since becoming human, Cas finds he isn’t grumpy. Instead, a reckless sort of happiness aches in his chest every time he looks at Dean and remembers how they spent the majority of yesterday in this very bed, naked and together. 

Dean snores softly in his sleep, head resting low on Cas’ chest, arms loosely wrapped around his waist. Cas watches him as he used to, albeit this time quite different than he remembers from all those years ago. He traces his fingers over Dean’s soft skin, over the scars dotting Dean’s shoulders, the ones he is unable to heal. He drags his hand up, slips it into Dean’s hair, stroking and playing with the short strands. Dean stirs in his sleep, smacks his lips together and hugs Cas tighter. He’ll wake up soon enough, the moment Arnold starts crowing. 

Cas basks in the quiet until then, the overwhelming sense of peace that having Dean in his arms brings him. 

Arnold crows less than fifteen minutes later, his loud call echoing through the house and the distant woods, waking all the animals and humans in earshot. 

Dean groans against Cas’ chest, “Damn it, Arnold.”

Cas chuckles, and the movement causes Dean to look up, peering at him through one half-open eyeball. His grumpiness softens the moment he sees Cas, morphing into a look born out of adoration. 

“Morning,” Dean says.

“Good morning, Dean.”

Dean stares and his gentle smiles widens until his eye crinkles appear. He ducks his head and presses a kiss right on Cas’ chest. 

“How are you?”

“Wonderful,” Cas answers, honestly. “However, I could use a shower.”

“Hmm,” Dean hums. He shifts and then cringes, no doubt remembering the spent of their activities yesterday still on his skin. 

They really should shower. 

“In a bit, wanna kiss you first,” Dean says, shy all of a sudden, expression completely innocent. 

_ If there was ever a reason to fall _ , Cas thinks,  _ this most certainly is it.  _

“I think I might be okay with that,” Cas says. He grips Dean’s shoulder, right where the handprint of his palm used to be seared into his skin, and drags him up to give Dean what he wants. 

They kiss slow and lazy, kissing to touch and get lost in the slip-slide of their lips and tongues together. Cas lets his hands wander, touching Dean everywhere he can with butterfly soft touches, slowly starting to work on memorizing him. He has no need to rush; he’s been given a second chance with humanity, he has a whole lifetime. 

Once they finally make their way to the shower, hands held tightly together the short distance to the bathroom, the heat from the steam is incredibly inviting. 

Cas has never showered with anyone before. He dreamed about it with Dean many times, but the reality of it is more than he had imagined. They huddle in close under the spray, continuing their makeout session from the bedroom to the shower, Cas’ hands buried in Dean’s wild hair while the water courses over their bodies. There’s been a low thrum of arousal coursing through him since he woke up, Dean’s proximity only adding to his need, and now, here with him, the water making everything so slick, Cas wants in a way he hasn’t fully allowed himself to until now. 

He moves his lips down to Dean’s neck, kissing down the length of it, encouraged as Dean grips his back and arches into the hot press of Cas’ mouth. He sucks a mark right onto Dean’s collarbone, soothing the bruise with his tongue once he’s finished, feeling very proud of himself when Dean whines his name and buries his face in the wet mass of Cas’ hair. 

Cas drops his gaze between their bodies, finds Dean’s cock hard against his thigh. With a curious hand, he touches him, slips a thumb over his slit and delights in how Dean bucks into his hand.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean groans.

Cas darts his gaze back up to Dean’s eyes. He looks so gorgeous, lips wet from the shower, extra pink in the heat, skin gleaming. Cas wants to taste him. 

“Can I?” Cas asks, licking his lips. 

“Please.”

Without another thought, Cas slides down Dean’s front, dropping to his knees, hands gripping Dean’s thighs for stability. Dean gets with the program, backs up against the shower wall, and Cas follows, eagerly leaning in once Dean’s settled to mouth at the soft skin at the inside of Dean’s thigh. A couple of bruises are left in his wake, dark in the brightness of the fluorescent lights. Dean’s already shaking above him, one of his hands sliding into Cas’ hair and gently tugging him closer. 

Cas is overwhelmed already from how much he wants him. He used to think human bodies were weak, but that’s not true at all. They’re volatile, desperate, and know what they want, but certainly not weak. He keeps eye contact with Dean, looking up at him through his eyelashes, as he twirls his tongue over the head of Dean’s cock. Gripping the base with a steady hand, he sucks on the tip, tonguing at Dean’s slit until he’s whining, then drops down, hollowing his mouth and taking him in all the way. He relaxes his throat and lets Dean fuck his mouth with easy slow thrusts of his hips, taking what he needs that Cas is happy to give him. 

Dean comes fast and tries to pull out when he does, but Cas stops him and Dean comes in his mouth, cockhead gliding over his lips, painting them white. 

“Fucking amazing,” Dean groans, and hauls Cas up to his feet with a strong arm to kiss the taste of himself off his lips. 

Cas whimpers into the kiss, oversensitive and needy now, so achingly hard from having Dean’s cock in his mouth he can’t even think right. Noticing his urgency, Dean slips a hand down between them and wraps a loose fist around Cas’ cock. 

“I got you.”

Dean takes his time, expert hands dragging Cas’ orgasm out of him as slow as possible. They don’t kiss while he jerks Cas off; instead, Dean looks at him, watches every minuscule change in Cas’ face. Cas lets all of the sounds in his throat be dragged out by Dean’s hands. 

He comes right into Dean’s fist, half-sobbing against his shoulder as he does. Dean chuckles right into his ear, and murmurs, “Love you,” into his hair. Cas watches, enraptured, as Dean moves his messy hand up to his own mouth, slips his fingers between his plump lips and licks himself clean. The actual shower following does the rest of the work for him, but Cas will forever have that image ingrained into his brain. 

Dried off and clothed, they head downstairs, hand in hand, matching dopey smiles on their faces. Cas moves to make a pot of coffee while Dean starts some sort of breakfast. After yesterday’s failed attempt, Cas has high hopes for this morning. He won’t be as distracted this time. 

Cas settles in at the table, slides Dean’s coffee cup across from him and waits, sipping on his own. He watches Dean, now apron-clad, while he cooks, whistling happily as he does. Dean comes over moments later and sits down across from Cas, taking up his coffee. 

While the eggs, allowed to cook this time, sizzle on the stove. 

Dean sips at his coffee, taking measured sips, looking at Cas who looks at him. Cas feels a leg slip between his and tangle around his ankle, so Cas pins Dean’s there with his calf, grinning when Dean smirks at him. 

Cas reaches out, sentimental all of a sudden, and rests an open palm in the middle of the table, where Dean places his own and slots his fingers through Cas’. Nonchalant as ever, even though Cas can see that behind the rim of his coffee mug, Dean has a shy smile on his face and a blush creeping up the side of his neck. 

Lifting their hands, Cas kisses the top of Dean’s hand, then places it back down, ever so innocently sipping at his coffee while Dean sputters at him. 

Needless to say, it’s a good morning. A good start to the rest of their lives. 


	11. Epilogue

**Early September 2022**

_ Dean’s Little Slice of Paradise _

_ Hello loyal followers, _

_ First, I want to thank you all for sticking with me. Over the past year I've made numerous updates with new recipes, excursions, and experiments around the house, some which turned out, others that didn’t. However, the most important thing that happened this year has nothing to do with the house or recipes. I wasn’t purposely keeping it a secret as much as it was something I wanted to keep to myself for awhile. _

_ Me and Cas. _

_ I’ve inserted a picture above this for proof. Yep, we’re together. :-) It has been almost a year now but over a decade in the making. I’m sure you’re all shocked, and don’t worry I won’t drag on and on about how wonderful I think he is, but it’s important for you all to know that I’m happy. That we’re happy. I don’t talk much about my life prior to this blog, but there was a lot of darkness, and shit happened I know I probably will never be over. Cas wasn’t with me for all of it, but he was there for a lot of it. And he stayed. _

_ I guess what I’m trying to say, as cheesy as it is, is that sometimes the best things in life are worth waiting for. _

_ So keep that in mind the next time your pie decides to take twenty extra minutes in the oven. Stick it out for the long haul, it’s gonna be delicious. _

_ Thanks for tuning in, and see you next time. _

_ — Dean _

“Dean, can you help me?” Cas’ voice pipes up from behind him. A pair of hands fall onto Dean’s shoulders, a soft kiss presses into his hair. 

Dean closes his laptop with a click, and cranes his neck around to find Cas, in all his sunhat and farmer get-up glory, behind him. 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“The chickens,” Cas grates out, a tinge of annoyance in his tone. 

“What did they do now?” Dean asks. He gets up from the chair, arms instantly moving to wrap around Cas’ waist and leaning in to kiss the frown off of his mouth. 

“I am trying to clean the coop and they won’t move,” Cas says, sighing heavily. 

“So, what you’re saying is you need a distraction?”

“Mhmm.”

“Well, I am good at that,” Dean replies, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and sliding a hand down to grope Cas’ ass. 

Cas squirms, trying to get away, and laughs. “Distract the chickens, Dean, not me.”

Dean snaps his fingers and clicks his tongue. “Damn, guess I’ll have to save that for later.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s why you love me.”

Cas shakes his head and grins. He kisses him, a soft peck, and reaches down to take one of Dean’s hands in his own. “Come on.”

Dean follows him outside, keeping their hands joined until Cas splits for a moment to open the coop and step inside. 

Dean gazes around at their plot of land. It’s the beginning of fall, the deciduous trees sprinkled around the forest and the yard slowly turning ripe with orange color. Their leaves will fall soon, making the entire yard look like something out of a Thomas Kincade postcard. Behind him, the house sits, and from this angle he can see the vase of sunflowers Cas picked the other day sitting in the window of the kitchen. Alongside it, the river stretches out, sparkling in the late afternoon sun.

Despite nature and all its beauty, Dean’s eyes land back on Cas. 

He’s fiddling with the door on the coop, shooing the chickens away from the entrance, scowling down at them as they scatter about the enclosure squawking at the disturbance. He must feel the weight of Dean’s gaze on him as he looks up right then, catches Dean watching him, and grins brighter than the sun shining down around them. Dean takes in a deep breath of the crisp fall air and steps forward to meet Cas. 

It’s taken half a lifetime, but he’s finally home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the ride. As always you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels) <3


End file.
